


Öiale (Forever)

by DefinitelyNotPie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Depression, Elves, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Illness, Poor Haldir, Pre-The Hobbit, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefinitelyNotPie/pseuds/DefinitelyNotPie
Summary: Haldir discovers a stranger in the forest that he is wholly unprepared to vanquish.Pre-Hobbit, Pre-LOTR





	1. Nâlu (Shadow)

**Author's Note:**

> Elvish (Sindarin & Quenya) & Adûnaic are incomplete languages. There are known phrases, & some that have been put together with known vocabulary & grammatical context. When possible I get my translations from reliable websites, occasionally I create the dialogue & vernacular myself using established Sindarin/Quenya/Adûnaic dictionaries, & what I can glean grammatically from existing sources. I will also create phrases that I feel are culturally appropriate. When necessary I will use Welsh or Mongolian to fill in the gaps I encounter in Elvish & Adûnaic. 
> 
> TL:DR - I put entirely too much thought into the languages when I do use them. Send help.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalî is not looking for any trouble, but it finds her anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over links for translations.

* * *

Kalî crept along the tree line. It was near dawn and she'd been watching the forest for two hours, having seen no signs of activity from within, at least as far as she could see through the trees. Thenisorn had insisted there would be patrols, but she'd not seen any evidence yet. The Rohirrim warned her that the elves were much stealthier than men and that any trespasser wouldn't even know the elves were there until they found an arrow between their eyes.

Kalî didn't pay any mind to tall tales and drunken ramblings, and she was fairly sure these stories were drawn up from the experiences of stupid, bumbling men fumbling through the forest like wild pigs. Kalî was more than confident in her ability to slip through the forests undetected. She was the best burglar in the fleet and a deadly scout, to boot. And besides, if elves were so damn clever, their kind shouldn't have been so easily annihilated in Sutherland.

She had been a Corsair of Umbar for centuries. She joined when she was at the end of her means, and then stayed as a means to an end. For hundreds of years she fought, and plundered, killed and captured. Honing her skills and becoming notorious amongst her people.

However, when the Corsairs sailed for Gondor under the colors of war she decided it was time to leave. Hostith was long dead, but he had been a man of Gondor and, while she'd spent most of her life pirating their coasts, she had no desire to bring war to his kin.

There was also the fact that, over the years she'd investigated and interrogated thousands of leads, and was still no closer to uncovering the meaning of his last words to her. Taking her search inland seemed the next logical step, so she made for the Gap of Rohan as soon as her feet hit the earth.

Leaving the Corsairs had been a serious risk. Desertion was a treachery most high, and if it weren't for the war and the long winter at the Hornberg, she may have easily been hunted down by her own crew. If they even survived long enough to notice her absence.

It was a Rohirrim named Thenisorn who gave her the most promising lead she'd had in over 700 years; to the north, within forests of Lothlórien, there was a place such as Hostith had described. And when spring broke, she returned with the people to Edoras, then made preparations to leave immediately.

The Rohirrim tried to convince her not to go, that the elves would not look kindly on her. Thenisorn offered to accompany her, as he at least spoke a little of the Elvish tongue, but Kalî declined. She didn't know what it was she was looking for or what she might find there, and she had no desire for a companion.

Mostly she didn't want to explain why she was chasing after the whispers of a dying man.

With the sun rising, Kalî crept ever closer and stepped lightly into the trees. The air around her changed the moment she set foot onto the soft moss and passed into the waning darkness of the wood.

Kalî couldn't have been traveling for more than an hour, easing her way west along the river, when she felt it. The undeniable sense of someone watching her.

She fell against the trunk of a large tree and froze, searching for movement among the trees. She saw only forest in the early dawn light. The only motion was the gentle dance of the trees against the wind, but that did not assuage her disquiet. She could hear the soft tickling of the leaves on the wind, the crooning lilt of songbirds in the canopy, and the agitated chatter of creatures on the forest floor.

But there was something else.

She rose, leaping softly from root to root and avoiding the fallen leaves and brambles that may crunch underfoot. She stayed in the shadows of the great trees, and her keen eyes were on guard for any movement.

Kalî could always see farther and hear clearer than any seasoned corsair. And her sense of intuition was overall frightening. Someone was here and watching her, of that much she was certain.

She fell into a crouch between the roots of a large tree. She closed her eyes and breathed as slowly and deeply as she could. Her hands fell to the hilts of her daggers, drawing comfort from the feel of their handles and the chill of the pommels against her palms.

As much as she preferred to not engage with any elves, she began to consider now that it might very well be inevitable. She was being followed, and she was, after all, trespassing. If she couldn't evade them as well as she thought, a confrontation would be unavoidable. She meant no harm, but she was prepared to fight if she had to.

Leaning her head back against the trunk, she stayed silent and listened.

Just wind. Just leaves.

She slowly opened her eyes. The rising sun had brightened the forest around her, and the light hit her eyes harshly. Kalî winced. For a moment, she considered heading back to town. Even though she liked to think she was more open-minded than her Eldar-hating brethren, she was still highly disturbed by the thought of encountering any elves.

She had never even seen one before. They may as well have been ghosts or dragons to her, she had no idea what she even would do if she found herself in the presence of one. But, whatever it was that was here that was important enough for Hostith to use the little strength he had left to tell her of it… she had to know, and this was the closest she'd been in over 700 years. Elves or no elves.

She took a deep breath and rose to her feet soundlessly. She took a slow, hard look around and stepped up onto the root.

"[Mae govannen](Well%20met!)." A male's voice said suddenly.

She swallowed thickly as she heard a soft crunch from behind her.

 _Speak of the devil…_  
  
"[Man le carel sí?](What%20are%20you%20doing%20here?)" He asked.

Kalî kept her head down, raised her hands and slowly turned to face him.

 


	2. Nimir (Elf)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir confronts the stranger, gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over links for translations.

Haldir had been watching her for some time while she moved through the forest. He had decided to follow a while instead of stopping her immediately. It had been exceedingly quiet on the marches of late and this unlikely intrusion was the most interesting thing to happen in weeks.

The wardens usually patrolled in small groups, but Haldir was senior amongst them and well-seasoned. He could set his own shifts and he often preferred his solitude. His brothers were never far away, though they were much more amenable to the camaraderie of the the other wardens.

Haldir was highly respected within the marchwardens, and even though they technically had no commander, receiving all orders through the council, he was seen amongst them as something of a manager or representative. Even so, this did not earn him a comfortable place within their social circles, and he was never particularly keen on such fraternization whilst on the March. And when he was home, well, he had his brothers.

He'd always been a peculiar ellon. Took the grey when he was but 300 years old, after the awakening in Moria. The King of Lórien had fled and left the Golden Wood with no hope of his return. The marchwardens had protected the realm, and the devastation from under the mountain never came. Lórien remained in disarray and fear until Celeborn arrived. The Lord came in his brother's stead after they received word of the King Amroth's demise, bringing with him Galadriel, the Lady of Light. There was beauty and peace within Lothlórien once again and Haldir swore then that he would defend the realm, and the Lord and Lady, with his life.

His parents sailed West when his brothers reached adulthood, but they were still quite young. Haldir took responsibility of them until they were of an age to choose their paths, and he was deeply proud when they followed him to the marches. However, despite his love for Lothlórien and his family, he was never able to sit comfortably amongst the elves of the Golden Wood. He had always been different, and regardless of the choices he made in life, he always would be.

He was not as lithe and graceful as an elf ought to be, and he did not have the same striking features that were considered marks of beauty for an elf. The lines of his face were soft, and the build of his frame was larger and solid. His strength made him an effective soldier, and he had speed and considerable dexterity, but his unusual build made him less stealthy than most, and less agile.

His near constant feeling of alienation amongst the Silvan elves had him jumping at an opportunity presented by Celeborn for someone to travel abroad, to learn among Men and to study them as well. His brothers well of age, he left his home and spent 100 years in the world of Men. He traveled through the Kingdom of Rohan and the Brown Lands, eventually finding his way to Minas Tirith, working for and with the people in a variety of jobs while learning their language and customs. He spent 60 years in Rohan; raising horses, farming, smithing, and eventually training with the Rohirrim. In Gondor he worked as a foreman at the mill before serving as an ambassador to the Steward.

When he returned to Lórien he found much about his brethren unchanged, but his time away and newfound knowledge had earned him an almost legendary rank among the marchwardens. And while he fell in with them with a more practiced ease, the feelings of isolation and desire for solitude never fully abated.

It was almost routine that he would patrol along the river alone, and he had not expected this morning to be any different.

There were several times when he thought he'd lost track of her. Whoever she was, she was quite stealthy, and he welcomed the chance to practice his own skills.

Haldir was disappointed by how quickly she had sensed him, her suspicions apparent when she made for her weapons. His disappointment turned into alarm then, and he decided to reveal himself.

She stood resolutely. Shoulders squared, as if prepared to engage, though she made no moves to arm herself, and held her hands out to her sides in complacency. She turned to him when he spoke, but was unresponsive. Her face cast in shadow from the deep hood of her cloak.

Haldir leaned casually against the tree, not wanting to appear intimidating and knowing his size more often than not made elleths uncomfortable. He folded his hands in front of him and tilted his head, attempting to catch her eye. He spoke again, keeping his voice soft and friendly.

"[Man eneth lín?](What%20is%20your%20name?)"

He heard her sigh, then she spoke, "I can not understand you, love."

He blinked in alarm, "My apologies." He smiled at her curiously. "Are you lost?"

Surprised by his sudden response in the common tongue, she looked up and drew a sharp breath.

_This was an elf?_

He was the single most beautiful creature she had ever seen in her life. He was tall, taller than any man, with a deep chest and broad shoulders. Milky skin, full lips and a strong jaw set beneath an elegant nose and large, soft blue eyes. Which were looking kindly, but seriously at her under his dark brows.

His ears were like Lairelossë petals, cutting through under his braids, and Kalî's fingers itched to touch them. His hair was long and straight, as white as the sun, falling over his shoulders. He wore a long cloak, and a grey tunic that fell to his knees. He was well armed, a bow and quiver strapped to his back and a great sword at his waist. He spoke with a voice that was droll, dripping with stoicism but hinting at a dangerous playfulness.

He looked nothing like the towering, willowy demons her kinsmen has always described. He looked like a man, except smoother and cleaner.

And breathtaking.

Kalî found it difficult to stand, let alone speak. He approached her cautiously while she gaped at him, and she was suddenly grateful for the shelter of her hood.

He put a hand over his heart and bowed slightly, "My name is Haldir. What brings you to Lothlórien?"

He seemed to be studying her while she collected herself. Carefully, she brought her hands up and pushed back her cloak, pulling her hood down. He blinked dumbly at her, his back suddenly rigid. Kalî watched him closely as he took a careful stride towards her. His silence and stare were intense enough for her to want step back from him, but she refused to shrink from his scrutiny.

Haldir was in awe. He had known his quarry was a rogue elleth, but when he decided to confront her he had not expected this. She stared at him, one eye a cloudy blue and the other just a pale ring all but consumed by blackness. Her skin was darker than his, though made paler by the thick, black hair that framed her face, in various states of braids, cords, and loose locks. She had a tattoo in the center of her forehead, and a silver ring in her nose. Her mouth and cheeks were scarred, with silvery lines cutting across her lips, and deep, shiny ribbons under each cheekbone.

She was solid and muscular, with more stock than every elleth in Middle Earth and probably half the ellons. She wore thin mail beneath her leather armor, which fit her form like a second skin and, he imagined, allowed her an ease of movement that made her all the more lethal in combat. He'd never seen a female warrior, and the sudden image of this one coated in blood and rage, roaring into battle made him light-headed.

In all his travels abroad, he'd never seen anyone like her. He had no idea where she could have come from, and was now desperately curious to know more.

Haldir realized he was gawking, and quickly looked away, his face flushed.

Kalî noticed his blush, delighted. Men were much easier to manage when they were flustered over a girl, perhaps elves were no different.

She smiled flirtatiously, "I apologize for any intrusion, love, I was just exploring."

He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly dubious.

"Outsiders cannot just explore the Golden Wood at their leisure," he scolded lightly. "I can not allow you to continue unescorted."

"You have been watching me since I entered the wood, izrê," she said, surprised by his quick recovery, "And I know there's more than just you, love, even if I can't see them. So, I'm hardly unescorted." She folded her arms. He cocked an eyebrow at her boldness and mirrored her stance. It impressed him that she had the skills to sense the others as well, now likely watching them both.

In truth, there were dozens of wardens throughout the Naith and along the Celebrant, protecting the realm. In the forest of Lórien, one was never truly alone.

"Nevertheless, please allow me to accompany you back to the border." he offered.

"No!" she barked, then winced. Perhaps it would not do to be entirely dishonest about her purpose here. He looked taken aback by her tone and she sighed, "I'm here to see Nimrodel," she said, hoping to ease his look of suspicion. He furrowed his brow. She continued, "I just need to see... it, then I'll leave, I swear."

Haldir was intrigued. It was about a half a day's journey west to the Nimrodel, he could easily take her there, though he couldn't imagine why she'd wish to go. It was one of the more dangerous areas of Lothlórien, being so close to Moria and the darkness that lurked there, hardly a tourist destination. The marchwarden patrols were typically doubled in the west, for that very reason, and Nimrodel was something of base camp for changing guards. She would be perfectly safe on her own, of that he had little doubt. However, he would not let her wander alone, and his curiosity was now too great to part her company just yet.

"I did not get your name." He said after considering her for a moment longer.

She bowed dramatically, "I am called Kalî; Corsair of Umbar, Master Thief, Assassin for Hire... and lover of blondes."

She winked.

His eyes widened and he laughed. He was unsure of that elaborate title and even less about the wink, but he sensed no danger from her. Especially in his own territory.

It would be an interesting day, of that he held little doubt.

He nodded respectfully, "Then please, híril nín," he held out his hand, "allow me to be your guide."

 


	3. Mellon (Friend)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir & Kalî get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over links for translations.

* * *

It didn't take much deliberation for Kalî to accept Haldir's offer. While aware that he would most likely remove her from Lórien if she refused, she also figured if she had to have a companion, she couldn't have wished for a prettier one.

Haldir had begun leading her toward a path that ran along the river when two elves emerged from the trees in front of them. They were dressed in the same grey cloaks and tunics as Haldir, but they looked quite different. They both had the same pointy ears peeking out through their hair, but the shorter one had hair the color of strawberries and the other was as tall as Haldir, with deep yellow hair. Their features were much sharper and leaner than his as well, all cheekbones and pointed noses. Which made it even more surprising to her when he introduced them as his brothers, Orophin and Rúmil. 

They were both staring dumbly at her until Haldir said something harshly to them. They then muttered what she assumed was a greeting to her, bowing as he had before. Haldir explained that he was the only Marchwarden who could speak the common tongue with any degree of fluency. The three of them shared a brief, but oddly heated, conversation in Elvish, exchanged some supplies, and then the two brothers vanished into the trees as swiftly as they had appeared.

"I don't see the family resemblance, izrê." Kalî chuckled when they resumed their walking. Haldir made a pained expression, and Kalî could see the hesitation on his face. He shrugged, much of the humor gone from his eyes.

"You are not the first to say as much," he managed. Then quietly, "I doubt you will be the last."

"What's that?" Kalî asked, "Shame of the family, then?"

Haldir sighed, the pangs of a lifetime of ridicule aching in his chest, "I would not put it so harshly, but I suppose you are not wrong."

"Well, we can't all of us be born lookers… dear me, poor lads. At least you're pretty, eh?" She grinned, turning her attention to the trail and missing the confusion in his eyes, then the blush on his cheeks.

* * *

They had been walking for the better part of five hours. Haldir had told her about his experiences outside of Lothlórien, learning the common tongue and the ways of Men and they exchanged stories about living in Rohan and Gondor. She asked about his life in Caras Galadon and with the wardens. Kalî seemed to want to know everything about him, and he found he quite enjoyed the company and conversation.

Haldir asked about her interest in the Nimrodel, but she was reluctant yet to talk about it. She did, however, tell him about her life at sea, how she had been raised in Belfalas, but had spent most of her life with the Corsairs, traveling along the southern coasts. She delighted in talking about the beauty of the cities she'd visited, _raided_ , but avoided details about the more nefarious nature of her profession.

"How is it you do not speak Elvish?" Haldir asked. This question had been gnawing at him since their very first exchange.

She laughed, shaking her head, "Why on earth would I speak Elvish, love? [Lâ ni-na Nimrîyê!](I%20am%20not%20an%20elf!)"

He blinked, confused. He did not know what she said, but it could not have explained how she didn't at the very least understand Sindarin.

"Surely your parents spoke our language…" He pressed.

Kalî stopped walking to look at him, her expression suddenly serious, "I didn't know my parents, mate. And even if I did, there's no elves in Sutherland, or Belfalas. There's no business for folk what speak Elvish!" Her tone had turned icy.

Haldir knew well enough about how elves were viewed in the south. After the Fall of Númenor, there was a great divide between peoples, and for a time the elves could still travel through to reach the havens such as Edhellond, but it had been centuries since any had taken up residence in that place.

Which made Kalî even more fascinating. How had she come to be down there at all? How could she have survived amongst the Corsairs for so long?

He had not meant to upset her. He ducked his head apologetically, "Forgive me, my curiosity got the better of me. I do not wish to pry."

She deflated, bringing her hands up to cup his face, "Oh, you precious thing." Her face was softer now, almost sad, "I'm the one what's sorry, love. I've been dogging you all day." She sighed, dropping her hands. "I'm not used to people asking after me. My boys minded after themselves and I wasn't looking for friends in Rohan. You have been just lovely, and I would be remiss to not show you the same courtesy. I'm sorry."

Haldir did not know what to say. He had frozen when she touched him and in the time that it took him to regain his senses, she had already fallen away. They stood awkwardly in the middle of the path, both unsure of how to proceed. Haldir dithered a moment before he suggested they stop by the river to replenish their reserves. Kalî's water skin was still full, but she recognized the diversion for what it was and gratefully followed his lead.

* * *

 

Haldir had been describing Elvish bread to her by the time they reached the riverbank. The afternoon was unseasonably warm, and they sought a cool place to sit by the water.

Kalî was shrugging off her pack when Haldir asked, "Would you like to try  _lembas_?"

He watched warily as she pulled out a small parcel and unwrapped it, revealing a portion of salted meat that she began peeling strips from.

She looked at him and nodded, "Alright. Thanks, love."

He pulled out a bundle from his own bag, and opened it while she looked on with interest. He broke the bread and handed her a piece.

"It is meant to be eaten in small amounts. It is very dense," he explained.

She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, "And that little bit is meant to fill you up?" She smiled and shook her head, "My boys would tear through a dozen of those and be hollering for more, I say." She took another small bite before setting it down next to her own food.

Haldir laughed softly, wrapping the bread back up in the Mallorn leaves. She picked up a chunk of meat and looked at him, "Have you ever had [halenôg](salted%20boar)?" She popped it into her mouth.

He shrugged, "As I said, I have spent much time in the world of men, this includes sampling their... questionable cuisine."

She grinned, "So... no." He looked at her pointedly, but she just smiled and batted her lashes.

He sighed, "...no."

Kalî picked up another piece and held it up to him, "Go on. I tried your weird bread."

He narrowed his eyes at the offering, his face masking none of his conflict. He had always found Men's method of meat preservation to be bizarre and unsettling, and while he had tried much of their food while abroad, he tended to stick with vegetables.

Kalî sat willfully with her hand poised before him, her fingers shining from the greasy meat.

"Come on, lovie..." she sang, her small hand bouncing playfully closer to his mouth.

He realized then, with no small amount of alarm, that she seemed intent on feeding him by hand and his chest tightened. He was not repulsed, but was rather more taken aback by her enthusiasm to engage in something so comfortable and intimate with him. Her grin was infectious, and he tried to hold back a smile while he grumbled his acquiescence, dutifully opening his mouth. She delicately pushed the meat past his lips, which he took, and she pulled back her hand.

He closed his mouth and began to chew cautiously. His eyes stung immediately, and his mouth began to burn from the overwhelming amount of salt and spices infused in the meat.

He grimaced, "This is terrible."

Kalî rolled her eyes, "Come off it, it's not that bad, is it?"

He mused over his answer, watching her as he chewed. She brought her hand to her mouth, pushing each finger in and licking off the excess grease and salt from the meat she'd just fed him. His eyes flew wide and he choked.

Her thumb still pressed into her lips, she cocked her head at him and raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"No," he coughed, after a rough swallow and a long drink of water, his heart pounding in his ears, "it is not."

She beamed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halenôg ….. Welsh for "salted" I have embellished it, and made it the name of a dish as well as a method of food preparation.


	4. Duin (River)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalî struggles with what she finds at the Nimrodel. Haldir uses his big brain.

When they finally arrived at the guard post, it was early evening. They had agreed they would make camp in the flets that night, after taking advantage of the remaining daylight to explore the Nimrodel. Hopefully satisfying Kalî’s unusual quest.

They dropped off their sacks and skins, as well as the cloaks they’d taken to carrying in the humid afternoon. Haldir brought Kalî to a small clearing beneath a vacant flet, and excused himself to check in with the wardens on duty.

Kalî sat down against the tree and sighed to herself, “What are you doing here, [Mîth](little%20girl)?”

Of all the ways she considered the day would go, this scenario had never occurred to her. She was so cocksure she could get through Lórien undetected she never considered encountering elves, let alone accepting help from them. She certainly never dreamed that, were she ever to meet one, that they would be as kind and generous as Haldir.

She'd always been told that the elves were proud, self-righteous, and cruel, knowing only hatred, greed, and war. Her marchwarden was nothing like that. He was wise and funny, dutiful and honest. And so very, very pretty.

She covered her face with her hands and groaned. This just wouldn't do. She had only spent the better part of an afternoon with this person, how could she have come to be so smitten? She'd never allowed herself such a luxury, and had never found it difficult to keep people at arm's length before. It had always proved easier for her in the end.

She did not like staying in one place for too long. With the Corsairs it was never a problem. They never stayed in port long enough to become involved with the common folk, and she had long established that she would rotate throughout the fleet, never staying on one ship for more than a few years at a time.  

Hostir had come into her world very much the same way he left it, a hateful old man, but Hostith she had known from just a boy. Before her eyes he had grown into a man, then into an old man while his children grew tall and grey themselves.   

It horrified her.

She had little experience in aging. Death and disease? Absolutely. With the Corsairs men died all the time, either at the end of a blade, or succumbing to fever or starvation. But to see someone just _wither_ away, was entirely foreign and distressing to her. She never wanted to see it again.

Kalî had heard about the immortal lives of the Eldar and, now that she was here with them, with Haldir, she was starting to wonder if she would be willing to stay, if they would even welcome a Númenórean refugee into their greatest of cities?

She groaned, and tapped her head against the tree. This was not something she needed to be thinking about right now. Haldir would be back soon, and what would happen when she finally reached the Nimrodel? What would she find there? Why had Hostith sent her here?

* * *

Haldir returned and escorted Kalî the rest of the way to the Nimrodel. In a small clearing beside the river, Haldir explained that this was the place where the Lady Nimrodel had lived. Her residence long since fallen to time and disrepair. Kalî approached the clearing, her brow furrowed. She looked around pensively and Haldir let her explore while he continued to tell her about the river. How it too was called Nimrodel, and about the poetry and songs that surrounded the legend of the lady.

When he finished, there remained an uneasy silence while she searched the grounds. Eventually, Kalî sat down on a large tree root that hung over the smoothly rippling water, looking confused and dejected.

"So, who was Nimrodel, then?" she asked softly, taking in everything. Haldir watched her diligently, as she looked sadly into the water, reaching in and letting the current run through her fingers.

"It is a sad tale, híril nín. Nimrodel was the beloved of the King of Lórien. When she fled the Golden Wood, her betrothed set out after her. They traveled to the south, in search of a ship." As he spoke Kalî sat back and looked at him, her eyes calculating. "Their party was separated. The king reached their destination alone, and perished at sea while he waited for his love to arrive. Nimrodel found herself wandering the White Mountains for a time, before she finally reached the harbour, and found herself alone.”

Kalî blinked, confused, "Then what happened?"

Haldir sighed, "We do not know. That is where our knowledge ends. Nimrodel was lost to time and Lord Celeborn took his brother the king’s place here in Lothlórien."

She turned her eyes back to the water, silent. He took a deep breath and approached her, kneeling beside her as she curled her legs beneath her as she stared vacantly into the river, lost in thought.

"Kalî," his voice was low, "why are you here?" He kept his head down, but watched her through his lashes. She tensed, and dug her fingers into the moss of the root she sat upon. She turned her head towards him, but not her eyes.

"I was a slave. From the time I can remember until I was grown, I was a slave in the house of a man named Hostir." She spoke softly, her voice almost lost over the babbling of the river below. He looked up in alarm at her words, but was silent as she continued.

"When Hostir died, I was left to his son Hostith. I had grown with him, and while we were not equals, he was like a brother to me. Hostith was an unhappy child, and a heavy-hearted man. He was always afraid, always suspicious, always sad. The relief he felt when his father passed was great, but it did not ease whatever burden he carried." She drew a breath and rubbed her nose softly with the back of her hand. "As he lay dying he called me to him. He was distressed, begging my forgiveness, for what I still don't know, but I gave it to him all the same. He took my hand and held it so tightly that it hurt, and he said, 'It was Nimrodel.'" She shook her head, "I didn't know what he was talking about and I told him as much, but he was in so much pain, he could say no more.

'It was Nimrodel.'

That was all he had said. That one word and I don't know what he meant." A single tear fell despite her unblinking eyes, her voice wavered angrily, "He died that night. He died, and I left with Corsairs soon after."

Haldir was aware that he was holding his breath, so transfixed by Kalî and her words that he did not dare move for fear of shattering their reality. Finally, she turned her eyes to him, red rimmed and watery. She clenched her teeth, "I do not know why I am here."

Haldir considered her then, what she had said and what he knew about her, and he thought about the things that he didn’t know. A thought stirred, he pinched hard at the bridge of his nose as he pondered the implications of it. His mind now racing with a thousand questions that all screamed at once to be asked and he drew a careful, even breath as he struggled to quiet them.

He finally spoke with a cautious calm, "Kalî, do you know where were you born?”

She frowned, confused by the question, “In Edhellond."

He closed his eyes and nodded, "Do you know how old you are?"

The neutrality of his tone was unnerving, but it was clear to Kalî that he was trying very hard to keep control of how he delivered these, seemingly random, questions.

She closed her eyes and tried to think, “I’m not sure… Do you know the Line of Dol Amroth?”

Haldir nodded, he had learned of the princes of Gondor during his stay in Minas Tirith.

“I was about 20 when Galador was born, so about 800 give or take?”

She watched him with a growing sense of unease as he nodded slowly and sagely at her answer.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. This was the question that had been haunting him since he met her, and now he had to know.

He took another deep breath, "I am going to ask you one more question, Kalî and, it might be a very stupid one, but please humor me this." He fixed his gaze on her again.

She nodded.

“You are an elf, Kalî.  Do you not know that?” he said softly.  

He could barely breath as he watched her, her eyes wide and brow knit, staring at him. She turned her head away and looked back out onto the water, the sun fading far beyond the trees as it set. She closed her eyes and hung her head.

“There are no elves in Belfalas.” She whispered, as much to herself as to him, but the conviction fell flat.

She knew she had outlived every shipmate and captain she’d ever had, but they had rarely died from age, which made it easier to forget that she never seemed to. She never got sick, she healed faster, and she could survive on little to no food or water for weeks longer than any of her boys. And though the men of Númenór once lived well past 300, it was no excuse for her long life…

She took a shuddering breath and her face crumpled miserably, unable to find the words to actually answer him.

 Haldir did not need her to.

“I told you Nimrodel disappeared after reaching the harbor,” he said softly, “what I did not say was that the harbor was the elf haven of Edhellond. Or that Dol Amroth is so named for the elven king of Lórien who died there… 784 years ago.”

She looked back at him, her face a host of grievous emotions. He rose to his knees and reached hesitantly for her, gently cupping her face in his hand, "I think you ought to accompany me back to Caras Galadhon, Kalî. I believe Lord Celeborn will be most eager to speak with you."


	5. Huznat (Ears)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A horrible memory resurfaces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: semi-graphic description of abuse and mutilation.

Haldir had suggested a walk along the river before returning to camp. He thought it would be better if she had some time and space to think things through before they spent the evening in the company of curious elves, all things considered. She hadn't said as much, but she was grateful for the suggestion.

Kalî's feet dragged through the soft grass of the riverbank along with her thoughts. Haldir's words echoed in her head.

_You are an elf._

Two hours ago she wasn't. She had not been fully sure of what she was, but she was definitely not an elf. However, two hours ago she hadn't known about Nimrodel.

Nimrodel. That single word had haunted her every step for seven centuries, and for seven centuries it had no meaning. She had never felt this close, and so far from the truth.

Was the truth that she was Elvish? And was it Hostith had not known how to tell her without putting her life at risk? It was true that his children would not allow her alone with their father, so his pertinent message had been given under their watchful eyes.

They had always been suspicious of her, how she had looked for all the world a blossoming young woman instead of the eighty year old she was purported to be. They believed she was a witch, and if given the chance she would hex their father into leaving them flat. They would not attack a witch out of fear, but had they thought she was an elf, they would have killed her themselves.

It had never occurred to her as a possibility before.

Haldir kept pace with her as they walked. He wanted to give her as much space as needed to think about what they had discussed by the river, and to be near in case she had any need of him. There had been a companionable silence for nearing on an hour when she slowed her steps and spoke to him.

"How do you know that I'm an elf? No one in all my life has ever suspected as much, why should you?" she asked.

"For the simple reason that I am an elf." Haldir shrugged. "I knew before I even set eyes on you. I could hear you, smell you. And when I had you in my sight, I knew it in the way you carried yourself, how you moved through the trees. You were the oddest elf I had ever seen, but you were without a doubt-"

"An elf," she nodded tiredly. She trudged towards the riverbank, and eased herself onto a rocky outcrop. Haldir followed, sitting beside her as she watched the water.

She had not considered that; the grace, the agility, the fortitude, the stamina, the keen senses, and the strength that she had always possessed to the awe of her shipmates. Traits she'd never shared with a single person she'd ever met until she met Haldir. As with her long life, she had always found ways to pass them off as insignificant or irrelevant.

"Not one single person… in all these years…" she shook her head, at a loss for words.

Haldir glanced at her, admiring, not for the first time that day, her otherworldliness. How decidedly non-Elvish she really looked with her deep tan and silvery scars, a lifetime of violence under the sun leaving their marks on her skin, and so unlike the fair hair of the Silvan elves, her inky tresses, thick and wild, around her head. But how she was so clearly Elvish to him, everything about her screamed it.

He laughed softly as a thought occurred, "And in all that time your ears never gave you away?"

He was met with silence. He turned to her, the half smile on his lips vanquished by a dawning horror on Kalî's face.

He felt a knot in his chest and he swallowed thickly, "Kalî?" was all he could manage.

Her breaths became short and shallow. She paled and the look of anguish she held made Haldir's chest ache. He reached for her, grasping her shoulders as she pitched forward, covering her head with her hands.

The memory had hit Kalî like a battering ram. Her ears rang, and her skin felt numb. She was vaguely aware of Haldir's hands on her, his voice rising, tightening with concern. She found she had no voice to answer him.

She was slumped awkwardly against him as he pushed her upright. He covered her hands with his, and held her head up to face him.

She blinked at him, a frown trembled on her lips as she fought against more tears, hiccuping for air.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she uttered, "He cut them."

Haldir's stomach dropped like a stone. He stared at her for a moment, his thoughts tumbling with her words. He pulled her hands away from her head, easing them down to her lap. His heart was pounding in his throat as he reached up again and slowly slid his fingers into her hair. She didn't resist, just closed her eyes against his touch and he felt himself trembling as he slowly pushed her locks aside, exposing her ear.

His breath left him like a kick to the chest. Her ear was rounded, like a man's, but a closer inspection revealed that the flesh across the top had been shorn, and terrible scarring had pulled it taut, causing a crude curl. Before he could stop himself, he turned her head and pushed away the hair over the other ear, finding it the same. He sighed heavily, pulling her to him and pressing his forehead against her temple.

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, a torrent of emotions rushing through him all at once. He spoke softly, his breath warm against her face.

"Who did this?" his voice was dark, and it surprised him. Amongst the feelings of horror and pity was an alien sense of rage. He continued to hold her head against his. He felt her tremble, but she made no move to break away.

"Hostir dragged me out of my bed one morning. He didn't say anything, he just pushed me to the floor... I was on my belly and he... he sat on me." Her voice was a harsh whisper and he felt her shaking hands find purchase on his tunic, bunching the fabric into her fists as she spoke. "I didn't understand what I had done wrong. I cried and apologized, but I couldn't move. He drew his knife and... he just started to cut me." Her head turned against his and they were nose to nose. He watched her intensely as she spoke, her head cradled between his hands as she spoke through her teeth, "I started screaming and he hit me... hit my face until I stopped. Then he put the knife to me again. I thought I was going to die... and I remember, he did stop, and I was so relieved he hadn't killed me that I didn't realize he had turned my head over, until he pressed my face to the floor and started cutting again... He never said a word."

Tears fell from her eyes, and Haldir wiped them away with his thumbs that lay against her cheekbones. "No one ever said anything. No one ever asked or even looked twice at me... I put it out of my mind. I never thought about it again…" she trailed off, the silence filling in the rest.

They sat like that for several minutes, Haldir pressing his head against hers as she clung to his shirt like a child. Neither of them spoke. It was a cold comfort to Haldir to know that the man responsible was centuries in his grave, and he ground his teeth as he attempted to center himself.

After a time, he leaned his head back to look at her. They stared at each other in silence, his hands still cradling her head, fingers tangled in her inky locks. She was looking at him, frightened and hesitant, and a welling impulse within him had him pulling away from her, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Let us get back to the post before nightfall. You have had a difficult day, híril nín, and we should rest before making our way to Caras Galadhon."

Kalî blinked up at him as he slowly stood and he offered his hand to assist her in standing. She took it reluctantly, sighing against the weight of disappointment and rejection that she felt pressing on her. She didn't know why she felt so dejected, it was not as though Haldir had looked upon her with disgust after seeing what had been done to her. In fact, as she had traveled with him, learning more about the elves and their ideas of beauty, as well as having met more of them since reaching the post, she was rather confused by Haldir's attention to her. These creatures were the fairest beings in Middle-Earth, to be sure. Where they were flawless and perfect, she was marred and broken. She seemed the opposite to them in every way, but Haldir had regarded her as kin immediately and all the while, never once casting her a glance of pity or shame.

She did not want to question it.

Haldir gently pulled her to her feet and looked her over with stony concern. She didn't release his hand, instead turning her palm against his and lacing their fingers together. She avoided his eyes and the look of confusion and hesitation that they held, and turned her attention back to the forest instead.

Haldir was uncertain how to react to Kalî having held fast to his hand as she did. In their brief accord there had been several touches exchanged between them, but for his part they had been offers of comfort. He realized that she was no doubt unfamiliar with how elves customarily expressed affection, that physical touch was almost exclusively reserved for close friends, family, and more intimate relations.

However, he was himself familiar with how mortals showed their regard for one another. He had spent a century enduring handshaking, shoulder patting, back-slapping, cheek kissing, and embracing, among other things.

He shook away the memory.

It had taken him months to acclimate to it, and years to accept it without recoil. He had also been bewildered by how hastily they seemed to pair up, taking no time at all it seemed for courting and betrothal, a tradition born of their short lives and need to procreate. There was a sad romance to it all that he came to deeply admire.

His uncertainty did not lie in his discomfort with her touch, but rather his logistical mind needing to interpret and process the feelings and intentions behind the gesture itself. He had just met this elleth that day, and while he would not deny having already found her deeply intriguing and himself emotionally invested in her quest, he struggled to believe that she would be harboring any notions greater than that herself. Though his regard for her seemed to increase by the hour and his millenia of hard won reservations and self-imposed solitude seemed to crumble like autumn leaves under her feet.

He pushed it from his mind. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and began to walk back towards Lothlórien, with Kalî in tow.


	6. Naur (Fire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalî & Haldir hang out with the wardens, Kalî deals with some insecurities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over links for translations

  
Caras Galadhon was on the other side of Lothlórien, but Haldir was sure that he and Kalî, as seasoned and (relatively) agile scouts, could make it there in less than two days. Traveling light with minimal rest, it was a trek that countless wardens took weekly, as the patrols changed out with fresh charges from the capital. Haldir was sure he could make it back to the city blindfolded from anywhere in the Golden Wood, and he had little reason to doubt that Kalî could easily keep pace with him.  
  
When they returned to the guard post, Haldir took Kali up into the flet under which they had left their things that afternoon. Kalî had begun setting up a bedroll and unpacking a few things from her bag when Haldir moved to climb back down the tree.

“Where are you going, love?” Kalî asked, hoping he wasn’t expecting her to just sit in a tree by herself for the rest of the night.

Haldir paused, peering up at her over the edge of the platform, “I am going to gather a few things for our journey tomorrow, and to find a place to rest myself.”

Kalî felt a twinge of anxiety, she hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t stay with her. She wasn’t used to being alone. Privacy was something one did not come by easily on a ship full of men, especially when one was the only female. A promise of violence and a healthy amount of fear, on their part, granted her the ability to bathe unmolested, but never alone. She ate, washed, and bunked always with her crew. And winter at Dunharrow had been rather cramped and cozy.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Can’t you stay here?”

Haldir blinked at her, still poised halfway off the flet, “I will not retire just yet. When you are settled, you are welcome to roam about the camp. I can find you then, it is likely some of the others would be curious to meet you.”

Kalî laughed awkwardly, “No, I mean… could you not just sleep with me?”

Haldir’s brow shot up and, in that moment of surprise, he lost his footing. He managed to hold fast to the platform, his feet scrabbling for purchase against the tree. He quickly pulled himself back up onto the flet, pausing for a moment, perturbed and slightly mortified.

Kalî slapped a hand over her mouth. “Are you alright?” she said, moving towards him, “I didn’t mean to startle you, I wasn’t suggesting anything untoward…”

He held up a hand as he collected himself, rising back to his feet, and ignoring the odd pang of disappointment he felt at her words.

He ducked his head, embarrassed, “Please, it is fine. Believe it or not, I would not be the first Silvan elf to fall out of a tree. We may make our homes high above the forest floor, but we are as bound by the laws of gravity as anyone else.”

He smiled then, bashfully, and she laughed, loud and bright. A sense of relief wash over him, despite his humility, at seeing her smiling once more. It had only been a few hours, but the weight of that time was so great that it truly felt like it had been days since the Nimrodel.

After a moment, he continued, “As for my accomodations, it would be most presumptuous of me, not to mention inappropriate, to share this flet when there are others available, and you should have your privacy.”

Kalî nodded, “I appreciate that, izrê, but if it’s all the same to you, I don’t mind. I’d prefer the company, actually. Never slept in a treehouse before, and I can make my own privacy should I need it.”

She tried to maintain as casual a tone as she could, but felt her voice tighten as her throat did. She was suddenly very aware of how close she was to crossing a line, and while she enjoyed teasing Haldir she did not want to come off as wanton. She had no idea what the next few days held in store for her, but she knew she did not want to do it without his support. She also truly and genuinely liked him, and didn’t want to do anything that might tarnish his opinion of her, whatever that opinion may be.

He faltered a moment, clearly hesitant. The other wardens might find it unusual for him to stay with her, but no more unusual than they found him in general, and it wouldn’t occur to them that such a situation could be used advantageously. Not that they were naive, but because he and this elleth were not betrothed and it was culturally absurd that two elves would engage in such activities outside of a more intimate understanding.

Besides, he knew that there was no chance of anything improper happening, regardless of his increasingly confused feelings on the subject.

He spoke tentatively, “I suppose it could be arranged, if that is what you would truly prefer?”

He watched her in the dwindling light, as something akin to relief washed over her face.

“[Burôda dalad-ni](Oh,%20thank%20goodness*),” she breathed, then looked up at him and smiled, “Well then… lovely. Carry on. Sorry to keep you. I’ll see you below shortly?”

He had an odd look of nervous anticipation on his face, but he bowed and gave her a nod. He turned and began to once again climb down from the flet to the forest floor below.

* * *

Later in the evening, Haldir and Kalî had settled around a small fire. She had been much subdued after their return from the riverbank, but after their rather awkward conversation upon the flet and as the evening weathered on, she slipped back into her voraciously talkative and mercilessly flirtatious skin.

A few of the off-duty wardens had joined them, fascinated by the strange elleth. They were polite but inquisitive, and Haldir seemed more than content to serve as a translator.

Through Haldir she told them about the Corsairs, leaving out the more depraved aspects of life among them. She spoke fondly of her shipmates, her “boys” and lamented how she left them. Neither she nor Haldir offered more than a vague explanation of her presence in Lothlórien, just that she was here to speak with the Lord and Lady. And since she was being escorted by Haldir, they did not question it.

“ _What is this mark upon your brow_?” one of the Wardens, Ferenril, asked. Haldir translated and she proceeded to explain, pointing to the three black chevrons that tattooed on the center of her forehead.

“This is my rank. Like a lieutenant, though really only the captain and first mate have official titles. I have been with the Corsairs longer than any other, but as I was not born in Umbar, and not born of the sea, I can not command my own ship.”

Haldir dutifully passes her words along in Elvish, and many of the wardens nodded in understanding, chattering amongst themselves.

There were a few elves who had not accepted Kalî with the same warm curiosity as the others, and had taken to dark whispering across the fire as she captivated her small audience. 

“ _She would lie with pigs._ ” One warden, looking hard and unimpressed, muttered to the elves beside him. Louder than he’d perhaps intended. 

“ _Like a filthy pet, no pride or dignity._ ”

Haldir did not translate, but was on his feet in a flash. Kali jumped back in alarm.

“ _Rimedur_!” He barked, and the other elf leapt to attention. In one stride Haldir was in his face.

“ _Your forked tongue is what lacks dignity._ ” Haldir towered over him with dark eyes and a frightening scowl. “ _Return to your post. It would not do for me to see you again before dawn._ ”

Rimedur withered before Haldir as the rest of the wardens observed the scene in astonishment. The two with Rimedur stood, speaking apologetically to Haldir, and pulled their friend along with them away from the fire. The others were silent as Haldir stalked back over to reclaim his seat at Kalî’s side, while she blinked in confusion.

Haldir glowered in the direction of the departed warden, and Kalî sidled next to him.

“What happened, izrê?” she said softly.

“He was being ignorant, do not trouble yourself,” he spoke through his teeth.

Kalî put a hand on his chin, turning him to face her. She looked at him seriously, “Tell me.”

His face softened, though he frowned, “He had base opinions and other _impolite_ notions regarding you.”

” _Impolite_ , you say?” She mimicked his inflection, then laughed and rolled her eyes, “Well, I can assure you, while I will eat rats what may nest in my hair, my quim does not have teeth.”

She grinned at him horribly.

Haldir’s scowl fell away to shock and he stammered incoherently. She turned to him bodily, “It hasn’t. See, look-“ She made to stand, tugging at her belt.

Haldir’s hand shot out instantly, grabbing her hands, his eyes wide, "Kalî..." he gasped, the deep blush of his cheeks apparent even against the firelight.

She couldn’t hold back her laughter, collapsing back on her behind and freeing her hands from his vise grip, “Fine, I’ll show you later.” She winked, elbowing him playfully and giggling all the while. Haldir huffed and shook his head, smirking at her in disbelief. This elleth would be the death of him.

“There now, that’s better.” She smiled, happy to have broken the tension, but then sighed sadly, “I try to pay no mind to what people say about me, love, they always believe what they like, no regard for truth. I should not be surprised to find it the same of elves.”

Haldir cast a glance over the remaining elves still seated around the fire, who were now watching the two of them with fascination.

They had never seen Haldir even speak to an elleth, let alone engage so casually with one. Haldir was the one marchwarden that stood apart from the rest. He was the strongest of them, the most skilled with a bow and a blade, spoke the tongue of common folk, and commanded the respect of every other warden. They held a deep admiration for him, as well as a sadness. Stoic and solitary, Haldir devoted himself fully to his duty as a Marchwarden of Lórien, never seeking companionship of any kind. Seeing him lash out at Rimedur in this elleth’s defense had been enthralling and a little terrifying.

She followed his gaze, taking in the awkward stares of the others and her smile faltered. She grabbed a stick and began poking at the fire. “Though, I suppose I must be ghastly compared to your women. Like a mûmakil stepped on my face,” she sighed, but smiled warmly at him, “As I said, we can’t all be born lookers. Just no pleasing you elves, I suppose, but as Corsairs go I am quite fetching, thank you very much.”

She tossed the stick into the fire then, a little too roughly to be convincingly nonplussed. She didn’t know what the damned elf had even said, but it didn’t matter now. It hurt to think about how lovely Haldir had been to her all day, only to be reminded of how partial and proud his kind were. Their kind. She shook her head.

Haldir was watching her carefully. He hadn’t considered how the revelation at Nimrodel might have confused how she now perceived herself, especially after he had just that afternoon inadvertently given her the idea that elves were shallow. And now with Rimedur’s obtuse display.

When she thought of herself as a Corsair, she felt confident and brazen. If she was starting to think of herself as an elf, she must feel scrutinized and judged now. Haldir felt a weight in his chest at that thought.

“You are fetching.” He agreed softly, looking once again over the fire at his brethren.

The other wardens had begun to disperse. Kalî nodded curtly at a few who made polite parting gestures to her.

She smiled tightly, and looked at Haldir, “I don’t need your charity, mate,” she said coldly, but she couldn’t hold his gaze and looked back into the fire.

Haldir noticed a knot in his gut. The thought that he had managed to hurt Kalî, even slightly, nauseated him. He shifted closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and pulling her attention back to him.

“It is not charity. I can speak only for myself, but I find you to be quite beautiful. And I would never compliment falsely. I know how it feels to be seen as less than, just because one does not fit the mold of an ideal specimen.” He was looking at her earnestly, and despite herself she believed him.

“Because of your brothers?” Her voice had softened.

Haldir bit his cheek, “No, because of me.”

Her brow knit, and she blinked, confused.

He sighed, “My brothers are not, as you put it, the shame of my family, Kalî. I am.”

She looked appalled, “Horse shit.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, “No. My brothers are fine examples of what is traditionally considered fairness in an elf. And those are traits that they share with most elves.”

She gaped at him and he smiled flatly, shrugging, “You said yourself that you did not see the family resemblance, though you did not understand the context of my response. And I failed to correct you, as I was too surprised by your reply.”

Kalî crossed her arms and looked skeptically at him. Haldir did have a greater frame and a gentler look than any of the elves she’d seen thus far, but she had not found the differences between any of them remarkable enough even to be noteworthy, let alone castigating.

“I don’t understand, love. A few of the lads here tonight were right trolls,” she grumbled.

He shrugged, “It is not as though I am outcast for it, just subject to sad regard and low expectations, despite how far I have come and the life I have made. ” He offered a weak smile, “It is their subtlety that makes it less bearable.”

She looked at him again, heart aching at his resignation. She did not have the upbringing to know what made one elf more or less beautiful than the other, but she did know that a pretty face was no substitute for decency. And to her, Haldir had both.

“Perhaps it means little coming from me, love, but I think you’re stunning. And I don’t mean just what my eyes can see.” She said softly.

“It means a great deal coming from you, híril nín.” He ducked his head shyly, “More than it probably ought.”

Kalî felt a flutter in her chest. She had spent the better part of their brief acquaintance being flirtatious and affectionate, and while he hadn’t been cold or dismissive of her, Haldir had remained rather guarded. This was the first time he had alluded to any feelings that might stray beyond compassion and perhaps even friendship. Her eyes widened, and he avoided them. She edged ever closer to him, her chest now tight with nerves.

He sat with his elbows braced on his knees, looking absently at the fire. Kalî gently eased her arm under his, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together as she softly leaned her head against his shoulder.

She took a steadying breath, “Let us leave ‘ought’ for another day, izrê.”

Haldir swallowed thickly before turning his face towards her, his cheek pressed lightly against the top of her head. She smelled like cloves and cinnamon and he closed his eyes, enveloped in it.

“What does ‘izrê’ mean?” he asked softly. She had called him that from the moment they met, and he was suddenly very interested in what it meant.

Kalî bit her lip, “Darling? Sweetheart? It doesn’t translate. What does ‘híril nín’ mean?”

He smiled against her hair, taking another deep breath of her as he squeezed her hand.

“It means ‘my lady.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burôda dalad-ni..... an expression of profound relief. Lit. trans. “Heavy beneath me”


	7. KarbîDorgu (Nightmare)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalî recovers another horrible memory of her past. Things get awkward with Haldir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you’re enjoying the story.
> 
> Hover over links for translations.

_Fire._

_Smoke._

_Screaming._

_The clashing of metal against metal. Someone is running, and she is bundled in their arms. It is dark, but for the fire she can see the trees up ahead. She is held so tight, the world around her bounces with each frantic step. She screams into the chaos, panicked and terrified, her eyes burning from the smoke and from tears. She is squeezed, shushed, soothed as they pant and push towards the forest. A sudden stop and she tumbles to the ground, out of the protective embrace. She curls into a ball as a barrage of footfalls and shouting overwhelm her. She tries to see, to find the one who held her, but there are bodies everywhere._

_Suddenly, arms grab her, pulling her away while she kicks and flails. Her hand closes over the hilt of a dagger and she pulls it free, waving it wildly as she is dragged away from the burning village. She screams._

 

"[NANETH](Mommy)!!"

Haldir was at her side, his hands on her shoulders shaking her gently as she screamed. When she suddenly drew her knife, he grabbed her wrist before she could bring the blade down on him, and he cupped her head with his other hand,

"Kalî! Kalî, wake up!" he shouted, his voice hoarse and groggy from having been ripped from his rest by her cries.

Her eyes flew open, and locked on his. After a moment, she choked and released the dagger in her hand. The look of terror and anguish on her face had Haldir's own eyes beginning to sting as he pulled her hand to his chest. He held her gaze,

"Kalî?" he said softly.

She blinked, releasing a well of tears that had gathered in her eyes.

"Haldir?" she said, her voice trembling.

With that word something within him broke, and he realized that it was the first time he had heard his name on her lips. His hands still on her, he pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. She was shaking, sobbing, her hands twisted in his tunic and pulling, as if desperately trying to bring herself somehow closer.

She had cried out for her mother.

He clenched his jaw, placing a hand on her head, smoothing her hair.

It made sense that the revelations of the last day would have shaken loose some long-forgotten memories within her, and Haldir cursed himself for not considering earlier that this might happen.

She shook in his arms, his own thoughts cascading when she gasped, “Is that what happened to her?"

He could only imagine what the dream had been about, but he hadn't the heart to ask her for details. She could not see his face, but he shook his head,

"I do not know, híril nín. I can not tell you." He continued to hold her as her breathing slowed and her form relaxed.

He adjusted his seating, moving to lie her back down against her bedroll when she snaked her arms around his middle, pulling him down with her.

The idea of lying with her gave him pause, but he settled himself down beside her. He kept an arm around her as he lay on his side. She burrowed herself into his chest and with his free arm, he pulled his cloak over them. For a time, there was no sound save for their breathing and the crackling of the fire below.

Haldir struggled with his thoughts as their breaths fell in sync. As an elf, he had never been prone to impulsive acts of physicality (barring his experiences abroad.) He may have comforted his brothers when they were much younger, but it had never come to him naturally.

Yet, he _wanted_ to touch Kalî, to comfort her.

While he had not bothered himself with amorous thoughts in several hundred years, he was not immune to the occasional pangs of longing and loneliness. He had long resigned himself to his solitude, having never found companionship with the elleths in Lórien and been long convinced that none would ever seek it with him.

He wasn't sure why it was Kalî that changed these feelings within him. Perhaps it was her flirtations and apparent interest, as he was wholly unaccustomed to such attentions. Perhaps it was because she was wild and unrefined; worldly, but with an air of innocence about her. Perhaps it was because she was one of the only people in a millennia that he could actually _talk_ to. It surely didn’t help that he found her strangely, achingly beautiful.   

As they lie in silence, he thought about how she had said his name. How hearing it had jarred him so violently. Since they had met, he had figured her refusal to address him properly was a tactic that she employed to prevent attachments, which made sense, given the amount of death she experienced in her life. He went out of his way to avoid attachments himself, though his reasons were entirely different than what he imagined hers to be. And he had been trying to keep her at an emotional distance since the very moment she accepted his help. Even after everything, he felt things were reasonably under control, until she had said his name...   

She drew him out of his thoughts, stirring against him and placing her hands against his chest.

"Stay with me," she whispered, and he felt her breath on his neck. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calculated breath. He ran a hand through her hair before pulling his cloak up over her shoulder.

"[Öiale](Forever)” he said finally, despite himself.

He had little doubt that she had heard him, but he was sure she didn't understand what it meant. Regardless, she made no further comment, instead making subtle adjustments to her position to settle herself more comfortably against him.

Enveloped in one another's warmth, peace returned.

* * *

Haldir stirred, his eyes opening sleepily as he felt a weight against his chest. He pulled his head back slightly to see, just under his chin, a mass of black hair. Kalî. Her arm was wound tightly around his waist, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Against his chest, her breaths were soft and deep.

His thoughts were still cloudy and for a moment he was unsure how he came to be in her spidery embrace, but as he blinked away the haze he remembered her nightmare, and how she had asked him to stay.

Under his cloak he could feel the tangle of roots their legs had become in the night, his feet locked tightly around one of her ankles and her leg draped over his waist. His hands he found with fingers woven into her raven locks and the other hooked over the knee snaked about his hip.

It was a compromising position, to be sure, but he didn’t make any move to escape it.

Haldir considered the previous day. How this stranger in his forest had turned out to be so much more than an interesting distraction, and if she was who he suspected she was, he wondered if this… whatever it was that seemed to be developing between them would end before it had even begun. 

If it _should_ even begin?

Did he even want it to?

Did she?

Would she choose to leave Caras Galadhon after meeting with Celeborn, regardless of what was discovered?

And, if so, would he just let her go?

The thought made his chest ache, and he sighed heavily as he drew her closer.

Kalî stirred, pulling her head back and blinking lazily at him. She squeezed her arm tighter around him, burrowing her face back into his neck as she mumbled a protest against the dawning light.

After a moment she sighed, “Let’s just live here.”

In that moment, it was as though they had awoken beside each other for years, and Haldir’s heart went from heavy to feather-light. Her easy comfort throwing his uncertainty and doubt into disarray. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His body moving of its own accord. 

He pressed a kiss against her ear, his fingers scratching lightly against her scalp. His other hand smoothed up her leg, gently kneading her thigh.

Kalî’s eyes shot open and the earth beneath her vanished. She held fast to him, seeking to ground herself against the electricity of his hands on her. Her heart pounded against his chest, and she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with his warmth and scent. Her eyes fluttered shut and she pressed a soft kiss against his neck. He gasped, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her backside.

She drew her head back again, looking at him now with black eyes. She brought a hand his face, brushing her thumb across his cheekbone, and then across his lips.

His breaths were quivering, out of sync with sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

She dragged her fingers lightly along his jaw, delicately tracing his ear, before gently pushing her fingers into his hair. The look in her eyes was heated as she gently pulled him towards her.

He felt her breath against his face as he drew nearer, and his wide, searching eyes fell to her mouth. The thin, silvery scars contrasting against the deep rose of her lips.

They each fell out of focus as they came together, mouths meeting soft, hesitant breaths. The connection was lightning on her skin, and she drew a sharp breath through her nose as she pulled him ever closer.

He moved his lips slowly against hers, his thoughts racing to intercept his speeding heart and his body, aching to get closer, deeper. His hand reached her hip and he dragged his nails across her flesh as she ran her tongue lightly against his bottom lip, drawing it into her mouth.

He groaned, his eyes drifting shut as she slowly released him through her teeth.

“Haldir!” a voice cried from below.

They jumped apart with a start, and Kali let out a nervous laugh at the interruption. Haldir exhaled, tense and bewildered by the shattering moment.

He fumbled, blushing, “Um… excuse me, híril nín.”

Still grinning, and just as flushed, she nodded and pulled herself out of his embrace.

He looked her over for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

He leaned over the edge of the flet.

“ _Yes? What is it?_ ” he grumbled at the young warden looking up at him innocently.

“ _Duindir has returned with his report from the western march. I assumed you would want to debrief him before you depart for the capital?_ ” the elf called.

Haldir sighed, running a hand down his face. He nodded at the warden below, who quickly departed. He turned then to Kalî, offering an apologetic look.

“I must attend to some things before we leave. I…” he trailed off, uncertain how to proceed. Kalî sensed his hesitation and spoke. 

“Well, I’ll pack up here. And meet you below? We should leave as soon as we can, I get the sense we’ll be gasping by noon.” she said, already feeling the rising heat and humidity in the air. It seemed the weather would be even more unbearable today than it was the day before.

After a beat, she bit back a smile at her innuendo and looked away from the alarmed expression on Haldir’s face, trying not to laugh at his expense.   

He shook his head, pawing at his uniform to straighten it, then began his descent.

Once he was out of sight, her composure shattered. Kalî pressed her hands against her face, her heart in her throat, and sucked in a groan.

“[Aglâr anÊru](Oh%20my%20God*)!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aglâr anÊru.....blasphemous expletive (Holy shit/Oh my God) Lit. Trans. “Glory of god”


	8. Ewythr (Uncle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celeborn receives word that someone special is coming to Caras Galadhon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am using an excerpt from Unfinished Tales that states Celeborn as the brother of Amroth. This is not considered canon by most experts, but for the purpose of my story, it’s relevant. 
> 
> Also, I am going with the assessment of Arwen’s birth being c. 2500 T.A from Christopher Tolkien’s Peoples Of Middle-Earth instead of 241 T.A that, again, seems the most highly accepted date of her birth.
> 
> Hover over links for translations.

Galadriel had first felt the approach of a stranger, and then she felt the awareness of Haldir, a long-serving and loyal marchwarden. With all the life teeming throughout the realm, there was only so much interrest she could invest in particulars at any given time, but as they approached the city, the stronger she felt the pull and was soon no longer willing or able to ignore it.

In turn, Celeborn recognized the shift in Galadriel's energy when she ultimately realized who it was that was coming to Caras Galadhon that day. Celeborn didn't have the gifts that his wife did, but he was in tune enough with the magic around him, and he knew as he rushed to his lady's side that there was something significant happening.

" _What is it, my love?_ " He asked as he approached.

She had been standing in her garden, having consulted her mirror after turning her full attention to the pair in the forest, drawing ever nearer.

She turned to him, her blue eyes ignited and absent, " _Eressëaiel is here._ "

Celeborn's eyes widened, and he felt as if his heart had stopped, " _Eressëaiel?_ " he breathed.

Galadriel blinked, slowing coming back to herself and her face softened for her husband. She smiled warmly at him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

" _Yes, my love. Haldir, one of our marchwardens brings her to us, they will reach the city by morning._ "

He was still reeling from the declaration, and Galadriel eased him down on a stone bench. He drew a breath at last, the overwhelming feeling of grief having taken the air from him momentarily.

He looked to his wife imploringly, " _Are you certain? You are truly certain it is her?_ "

It ached his heart to doubt her wisdom, but it had been almost eight centuries and he had all but lost hope. Galadriel took his hands in hers and squeezed them, her smile radiating all the certainty he could have ever hoped to see.

His brother’s only child was coming home.

* * *

It would be hours still before Eressëaiel would arrive and Celeborn was now restless, his thoughts wandering.

He decided to prepare his household for the arrival of his niece.

He had already given orders to have several rooms prepared, and was in the process of making arrangements with the clothier when his granddaughter came barreling down the corridor.

“[Dâd](Grandfather) _!_ ” The young elleth called when she spotted Celeborn. He slowed to a stop, holding out his hands in case he had to catch her as she rushed him.

“ _Arwen! You mustn’t tear through the halls,[hîn milui](dear%20child), you could hurt someone._ ”

She stumbled to a halt before him, smiling brightly.

“ _I am sorry, but I could not be still.[Mam](Grandmother) has said that my cousin is to arrive today. My cousin! I asked how I could help and she sent me to find you._ ”

Arwen was beaming with excitement. She was young, but absolutely lived for the tales of her ancestors and surely the news that the fruit of one such story was about to be at her front door had her all but crawling out of her skin.

Celeborn sighed and smiled softly at her,

“ _It is true,[siel](granddaughter). She will be here in a few more hours, and there is much to do! I was going to put in a request to the clothier to prepare her a wardrobe, as I imagine she is traveling light. I have not the sense of fashion you elleths have, would you take on that task for me?_ ”

Arwen’s smile widened impossibly and her eyes lit up, “ _Yes! Oh! But I do not know her size, or her favorite colors, or_ -“

“ _Just do your best. A few simple garments will do in the meantime, something comfortable._ ”

She nodded and took off down the hall, completely forgetting his reprimand for running.

He smiled to himself, now altering his course to the kitchen, his heart swelling with hope and anticipation of meeting his [gonîr](niece%20\(brother-daughter\)).

* * *

 

_Where has she been all this time?_

Celeborn could assume she had been raised up among mortals, though how she survived or had not been sent North centuries ago remained unclear.

He thought of his brother and his heart ached. It had been a millennia since they had spoken, estranged though they were after the encounter at Dol Guldur.

Galadriel had feared a rising darkness across the Anduin was Sauron himself, but Amroth would not heed the warnings of a Noldorian, and refused his brother’s desperate request for Lothlórien to join with the forces of Greenwood to eliminate the threat.

Amroth had always been headstrong and unforgiving, and after many hateful, irrevocable things were said, Celeborn and Galadriel left Lothlórien, and he would never see his brother again.

After the balrog awoke, there was chaos in the West and Celeborn had not known until after the danger had passed that Amroth had even left Lothlórien. Celeborn and Galadriel came to restore peace and order, but the king did not return.

It was even later that Celeborn learned the true fate of his brother, and he was then stricken with regret and grief.

He sighed, walking over to one of the many windows that looked out over Caras Galadhon. In his mind, he knew Amroth held just as much blame as he did for their divide, but his heart carried the burden of them both, since his brother had not survived to see them reconciled.

Celeborn would often think about Eressëaiel, the child lost to time, the only thing that remained in the world that could possibly ease his grief. If he could find her. Protect her. See she had everything she deserved as a princess of Lórien. For centuries, he tormented himself with these pipe dreams. But now...

Oh, but how his heart soared. His only gonîr, at last, _at last_ found. Safe. Alive. And here.

_Was she fine and delicate like her mother?  
Was she hearty and stubborn like her father?_

He trembled with nerves, his anticipation met with a healthy amount of fear. He needed an occupation before he drove himself mad.

Moving to his study, he found himself pacing. He thought on council matters to distract and possibly bore himself to sleep.

_Council. Districts. Security. Marchwardens._

Marchwardens.

A marchwarden was accompanying Eressëaiel, there would be a gap in the guard posts. Celeborn cringed, not having any desire to expend extra thought or energy on harrying the council to accommodate promptly.

He realized that it had been years since he or the council had had to field any complaints or complications regarding the organization or regimentation of the marchwardens, but he always dreaded the task.

When he had first come to Lórien, managing them was a nightmare and wrangling the heads of each overseeing council member to settle disputes was an exercise in futility.

That’s when he remembered. _Haldir_ , Galadriel had said.

Haldir was a name he had heard many times at council, a marchwarden most outstanding in his diligence and discipline, known throughout the wardens for his leadership and invaluable skills.

Celeborn had only met the young ellon a handful of times, the first being when he approached the council as a volunteer to live among their mortal neighbors, and after his return to Lórien he was often seen at council as a representative of his fellow wardens regarding scheduling and training disputes.

He was an impressive soldier, Celeborn recalled, powerful and intelligent. Who had so clearly benefited from his time abroad and brought a great amount of knowledge and experience to share with his comrades. Celeborn would often speak with other wardens, and he knew they all sang Haldir's praises as the very best amongst them.

It was most fortuitous that this warden was the one who happened upon Eressëaiel, and possessed the wisdom to handle the situation with all the immediacy and delicacy it required.

Long had Celeborn tried to make proper arrangements to turn command of the marchwardens over to the wardens themselves, as the council struggled with inexperience and complacent indifference when dealing with them.

Celeborn decided that it might be time to revisit this subject with the council, as the wardens needed more than clumsy management from a table of peace-blind Eldar. They needed someone they trusted, respected, that they could follow, and the council needed someone who could advise them objectively regarding the safety and security of their borders and forces.

It was hardly something Celeborn thought to set in motion at the moment, as he found himself considerably overwhelmed as it was, but he could not deny the truth that Galadriel had been right about Dol Guldur, and no matter what was said between his brother and himself, Sauron would return to Middle-Earth.

The days of peace were over, and the army of Lothlórien would need a commander. 


	9. Ungol (Spider)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir struggles with his thoughts & memories from his past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haldir’s thoughts in this chapter are directly lifted from my own experiences with depression. It’s cruel & debilitating, & I hope it conveys sensibly.
> 
> Hover over links for translations.

Duindir was clearly hoping to impress Haldir with his thorough report on the state of the western fence, but Haldir could barely focus his attention on the young warden. A few sturdy nods and respectful bows later, and Haldir hurried away from the post, crouching into the crags of a great mallorn.

He dropped his head into his hands, panting for breath now that he allowed himself to draw it.

What had he been thinking? He had _kissed_ her.

Or maybe she kissed him. It was a bit of a blur as his thoughts raced and he struggled to hold his composure against the torrent.

_Everything you love, you destroy._

He bit hard at his cheek, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing his forehead. The memory of Aímne inevitably creeping to mind.

He shook his head violently.

“This is different.” He pleaded to no one, pressing his fingers against his eyes until he saw grey.

_You left her to die. You do not deserve this._

“No.” Haldir hissed through his teeth, tears now stinging his eyes.

 _Coward_.

He moved his hands to cover his ears, as though he could somehow shut out the hurtful words of his own mind.

Kalî would find out sooner or later, if he pursued this. Either he would confess himself, or his brothers would tell her out of a desire to help. He could not forgive himself this, how could she?

Aímne. It had been several hundreds of years since her inevitable passing. Several centuries since he had found affection and comfort in the arms of a mortal woman, a maid of Rohan. A woman who, with him, would have surely suffered a future of hurt and heartache.

It had begun innocently enough. The daughter of a Horse Lord, Aímne was young and clever and inquisitive. She was fascinated by Haldir and would often spend hours in the fields with him tending the horses. He was always courteous and polite, answering her endless questions and humoring her with stories of Lothlorien. Eventually, it became something more.

Haldir had tried to rationalize his feelings for her, and hers for him. That she was naive and curious, that this was a phase young mortals went through before finding a mate and starting their families. But after several years, Aímne had made her position abundantly clear. She was in love with him, and she wanted to stay with him no matter what the cost.

He had tried desperately to fight his own feelings, strong as they were, and convince her that they had no future together. He was an elf, he was immortal. He would live as he was until the end of the world, while she would wither in but a breath of time. Their children would also lead long lives, and she would never see them grow. They would have precious little time with their mother, and would never meet her in Valinor. He could not bear the thought.

Aímne was as stubborn as she was kind. She would not be swayed. So, in the dead of night, after resolving his accounts and resigning from his duties, he left Edoras and fled for Gondor.

Whenever he thought of her, he liked to think that she was quick to recover from his abrupt departure, from his lack of goodbye or closure, that she found a good man that would give her the life and family she had wanted, and that she died old, happy, and peaceful. That he did what was best for her.

This was what saw him through when regret gnawed at his heart. When he felt the sting of solitude as his brethren bonded and beget elflings. That his decisions were in the best interests of everyone.

He never expected Kalî.

Kalî, dark and feral, a savage elleth who had snuck into his forest like a spider and trapped him in her web. Bold, beautiful and brazen. An elf with the heart and spirit of Men. Someone he could love, that would love him. Someone that he would never have to learn to be without.

_But she could never love you._

Kalî was the daughter of King Amroth, Haldir had little doubt. The niece of Lord Celeborn. She was a princess. What was he? A marchwarden with no future. Even if she held him in high regard now, once acclimated to the ways of elves and life in Caras Galadhon, she would come to see him as everyone else did. Less.

_There is nothing but heartbreak for you._

His heart sank as the twisted logic of his own self-loathing pled its case uncontested. He was born less, he would die less, and it was only by the grace of Valar that he might see Valinor.

He slumped against the roots of the tree, cursing himself. For having dared to hope. For having been so open to Kalî and her charms and kind words. For betraying Aímne. For breaking her heart.

_She will be better off without you._

He nodded miserably to himself, and stood slowly on shaking legs, brushing off the crushed leaves and earth that clung to his tunic. He couldn’t let it happen again. He didn’t deserve happiness, his loneliness was his atonement, and his sins could never be forgiven.

He leaned against the tree while he composed himself, drawing conviction and control from his sense of duty as a marchwarden. He would take her to the city as he had promised, and he would return to the fences where he belonged. He would keep her and the rest of his people safe, as was his sworn duty, and when Kalî found her own happiness, he would rejoice in it.

——————-

Well-stocked with provisions and fresh water, they departed the camp shortly after dawn. If they trekked straight through without rest, and weather permitting, they could reach the city before the next morning.

The sun was high and overbearing above the trees, drawing the damp from the earth, and hanging it in the air like spiders webs that clung to their skin and filled their lungs with a sticky heat.

Haldir and Kalî trudged through the forest, spending the morning in relative silence, and the afternoon exchanging polite, but awkward, small talk.

Since leaving the Nimrodel, Haldir had become stoic and distant. Kalî suspected he was struggling with what had happened that morning, but she couldn’t think of a way to bring it up. She had been surprised it had happened, but not upset. Though her feelings on the matter now were more muddled because of Haldir’s current behavior towards her.

She kept an eye on him, he remained at a distance and was curt, almost icy, when she attempted to flirt with him.

_Perhaps he has a wife?_

They hadn’t talked about that, and he hadn’t seem to mind her flirtations. There was also the fact that he had said he wasn’t considered terribly attractive, as elves go. She had just assumed that meant he was unattached.

Maybe she misread his approach that morning, and he was unsure how to address the matter? She had gotten the impression that he was attracted to her, but perhaps she confused friendly affection for interest. It made her sad to think she had possibly spoiled things between them with her bullish nature.

By the late afternoon, she’d all but given up on trying to carry a conversation, instead turning inward to pour over all the ways she’d managed to misconstrue the situation.

When Kalî finally fell quiet, Haldir’s heart sank, despite this having been his plan. Turn her off, re-establish distance. He ground his teeth, berating himself in his head for his stupidity and cowardice.

_Running away again._

He scowled at nothing, keeping her form in his periphery, and clenching his fists until his nails dug painfully into his palms, his knuckles a sickly white.

She had been trying to open him up all day, but was obviously handling his tension with caution. He hated to think about her feelings of isolation, expounded now by his skittish regard.

A part of him was grateful she had not lashed out yet, demanding answers in her blunt, smarmy way. Another part was desperate for her to; to break him down, to shake his traitorous thoughts from his head, and chase away the voice that haunted him.

_She would only find you pathetic anyway._

He quickened his pace, his resolve renewed and now desperate to be rid of her, to be alone again with his tormenting thoughts.

He hoped one day she would understand.

———-

Night fell around them, Kalî s hurt and confusion having evolved into a frustrated spite. After hours and hour of silent travel, Kali was fed up. She had clearly misinterpreted Haldir’s regard and was now bound and determined to put it behind her. She came here to find out the truth about her past, not to fall in love with a stranger.

She’d let her vulnerability get the better of her, something she thought she had long outgrown, and she so spent the remains of the day shrugging on her sea-thickened skin.

Haldir had suggested a rest, but Kalî refused. She had more than enough ire burning in her veins to push through the night, and the darkness wouldn’t affect either of them.

Haldir had seemed almost saddened by her rebuttal, but she was too wound up to falter. As ever, her primary response to pain was anger. On a ship of hardened men, delicacy and weakness get you killed. Kalî had already let her guard down for this elf once, and for a brief, beautiful moment, she thought she was safe.

It wouldn’t happen again.

————

Traveling through the night, without the stifling heat, they made good time and were able to make it to Egladil just as the sun rose.

From there, Kalî could see the city in the distance, the trees that reached into the very sky. Haldir explained that elves lived in the trees, and that Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn resided in the very tallest of them.

Haldir looked at her while she took in the great trees in awe. She seemed nervous, but he resisted the urge to comfort her.

He sighed against a pang in his chest, “Lord Celeborn and the Lady of Light will be eager to see you. Galadriel no doubt already knows we are on our way to her, she has many gifts. I believe they will be able to help you find the answers you seek.”

The walk into the city was overwhelming. Kalî had seen that the trees were large from a distance, but walking beneath them, they towered impossibly. The sun’s rays barely pierced the endless canopy, but thousands of lights from within the trees bathed the city in an ethereal glow. Kalî followed Haldir up a vast and spiraling staircase. There were few elves on the ground where they came in, but as they ascended she could see them moving about within the talans and along the bridges.

They reached the top, and entered a large foyer. Kalî followed blindly as she stared unblinking at her surroundings. Haldir led her to another staircase, but stopped at the bottom.

All around them, elves silently moved about with their own business. Some regarded the pair with alarmed interest, but did not stop their work to inquire. There was an almost eerie silence within the room and Kalî turned to find Haldir looking up with a sad reverence. She followed his gaze to see two people slowly descending the stairs.

Two elves, dressed in finery such that Kalî had never seen. The male, was tall and lean, with fine yellow hair and a kind, yet serious face. The other, was a bright shining lady in a shimmering gown. Her white hair seemed to radiate its own light. Her gentle face and delicate features were breathtaking, and her soft smile filled Kalî with an overwhelming sense of peace.

As the couple reached the bottom of the stair, Haldir placed his hand against his chest and bowed.

Haldir spoke in Westron, “Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, this is Kalî. I found her wandering the wood in search of the Nimrodel, and I believe you will be most interested to speak with her.”

They were both staring at her, Celeborn in disbelief, but Galadriel’s gaze was penetrative and calculating.

Kalî felt naked under it.

Her eyes met with those of the lady, who smiled softly at her. Then she spoke, “Indeed we must, Haldir,” but her eyes never left Kalî’s. “We have been waiting for you.”

Galadriel turned then to her companion. He was still looking at Kalî in awe, the emotion on his face apparent despite his overall stoic posture. He stepped towards her carefully, and reached a shaky hand to her face.

He drew a sharp breath as he studied her, “[Iston i nîf lîn](I%20know%20your%20face)… Where have you been, child?”

Galadriel looked back to Kalî with her soul-piercing stare and her face fell, as though she’d found the answer herself in Kalî’s mind.

The Lady answered sadly, “In the shadow of Númenór.”

Celeborn’s attention went immediately to Galadriel, and they shared a long, heavy look. Kalî looked back and forth between them and unknowingly moved away from the pair, much unnerved by the sudden change in the mood of her hosts. She backed into a firm surface and her arms flailed slightly, but strong hands on her shoulders stilled her. Looking back, she saw Haldir looking at her kindly, and for a moment her heart quivered. His expression fell as quickly as it had softened and he gently pushed her back towards the two High Elves.

“Haldir,” Celeborn said, his attention drawn away from his silent exchange with Galadriel.

Haldir dropped his hands and stood at attention.

“You have our deepest gratitude for bringing her safely to us. We are in your debt,” Celeborn bowed his head and Haldir nodded once. “You may return to the Marches.”

Haldir cleared his throat, bowing his head, “Of course, my lord.”

Haldir looked back to Kalî, regarding her with his soft eyes. She let go a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and frowned, turning her head to face him.

They looked at each other for a long, painful moment, Haldir’s stony resolve crumbling under her now cold, penetrating stare. His stomach turned, his chest aching. He nodded curtly, turned on his heels and walked away.

Kalî felt her throat tighten as she watched his retreating form. Feeling the weight of the last two days crushing her. She turned her attention back to the two elves, Celeborn had stepped forward, his arm crooked in offering.

“Come inside, child.” Celeborn said, motioning up the stairs. Kalî took a deep breath and slipped her hand around his elbow, as he led her up the stairs.

 


	10. Narn (Tale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kalî speaks with Celeborn and learns the truth of her parentage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over links for translations.

Celeborn led Kalî to a parlor and sat her down on a small sofa. Her eyes darted between the two Eldar as they sat opposite her. Another elf entered the room with a tea tray, setting it down on the low table between them and departing silently.

Kalî looked at the offering, then fidgeted awkwardly, unsure of the proper etiquette.

Celeborn must have sensed her unease because he reached for the teapot and began filling the cups as he spoke,

"I apologize for staring. Galadriel told me you were coming, but I found I was still not adequately prepared to see you." He smiled, almost sheepishly, and offered Kalî a cup and saucer.

She took it, not wanting to be rude, but did not take a drink.

Galadriel was watching her silently, and Kalî shifted in her seat. The quiet of the room was almost unbearable.

Celeborn finished pouring and passing around the warm beverages. Kalî set hers on the table, untouched.

“Do you know why you have been brought to Caras Galadhon, Kalî?” Celeborn asked.

“I have a rough outline, milord,” she said warily, trying not to gape at her surroundings and her hosts.

Celeborn smiled and nodded, amused. He cast a glance at his partner, who was still looking at Kalî with unnerving interest.

He took a cautious sip of his tea and cleared his throat, “Haldir said you were searching for Nimrodel? May I ask what drew you there, and after all this time?”

Kalî took a breath, “I lived with a family when I was very small. They kept me as a servant. I have little to no memory of what came before. Hostir, my master, told me I was born a slave and that I had no parents. I never questioned it.”

Celeborn’s face fell as she spoke, and her voice wavered as she continued,

“It was his son who told me of Nimrodel just before his death. Though, he either couldn’t or wouldn’t elaborate beyond telling me the name, and I got the impression that it was very important. I don’t know how he knew or why he waited so long to tell me, but I began searching for Nimrodel as soon as I left Dol Amroth. I have been with the Corsairs of Umbar for most of my life, and I never found anything in the south. It was a chance meeting in Rohan that turned me North to your forest, which is where Haldir found me.”

She looked anxiously at Celeborn and Galadriel, who had both been listening raptly to her tale. Kalî shrugged apologetically, but said no more.

Celeborn’s teacup rattled against the saucer has his hand shook, and he set down his cup. He closed his sad eyes for a moment, then turned them back to his niece.

“I would believe every elf in Middle-Earth knows the sad story of Nimrodel. At least, the story as they have been told by their forebears. However, there is a part of the tale that has been omitted, by myself, for what purpose? I do not truly know.”

Galadriel reached for him wordlessly, setting a gentle hand on his arm. He nodded absently to himself, “I assume Haldir told you what he knows, but what is not widely known save for a precious few, is that Amroth and Nimrodel had been married and had beget a child shortly before the madness that befell Moria. Lórien was being overrun with refugees, and when the balrog was awakened Nimrodel no longer believed the Golden Wood was safe enough for her child. She did not want Amroth to abandon their  people, so she fled to Edhellond, with the hope of finding asylum there. And as the story goes, he chased her to his end and she disappeared.”

He looked at Kalî solemnly and sighed, “It was 20 years after Galadriel and I came to Lothlórien when we received word from Edhellond. A handmaid of Nimrodel, Mithrellas, sent a missive before she sailed west that she had been taken as a consort to the King Imrazôr when her mistress arrived at the harbor. Nimrodel gave birth and for a short while lived with a small community of elves under the protection of Imrazôr, which he did to appease Mithrellas. His people had no love for elves, which you surely know, and there was an attack. A mob overran the village one night and all the elves were slain. Mithrellas was informed later that the child of Nimrodel, Eressëaiel was her name, was not found amongst the carnage. There was a search, but nothing was ever found. Mithrellas fled for Valinor shortly after, diminishing from grief.”

Kalî closed her eyes, remembering the awful dream she’d had that night at Nimrodel. She drew a deep breath, grounding herself for a moment before looking back at the Eldar, both watching silently.

“I think I was taken.” Kalî croaked, pulling back her hair and exposing her ear, “Hostir cut my ears, perhaps so I would not draw attention.”

Celeborn choked at the sight, and his eyes filled with tears. Galadriel’s lovely face went dark for a moment, and the hand on her husband’s arm tightened.

Kalî’s chin quivered as she continued, “He moved his family often, he was a merchant, by trade, so it wasn’t unusual. I suppose, in hindsight, it was so neighbors wouldn’t wonder on the slave girl what wasn’t aging like a normal child…”  

She paused, taking a breath and folding her shaking hands in her lap, “It was Haldir who suggested I come here to see you, he put the pieces together. Though I have no proof beyond-”

“We do not need you to prove anything, child. I knew who you were the moment I saw you.” Celeborn interrupted softly, “You have the look of your father. And Galadriel sensed your presence soon after you arrived in Lothlórien.” He smiled, though his eyes were raw with sadness.

“I have hoped against hope for all these years that you might by some miracle be found.”

Galadriel gently brushed away a tear from his cheek, “You must now put aside your grief, melan nín. She is returned to us.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, looking fondly at her before turning back to Kalî. He looked on her warmly for a moment before he spoke again.

“I have so many questions for you, so many things I want to tell you, alas I have no idea where to begin.” He said softly, and Kalî gave him a weak, but genuine smile.

“I surely  have questions of my own, but I’m afraid my thoughts are scattered at the moment. It has been a very… _trying_ couple of days, and… I don’t know what to say, milord.” She uttered honestly.

Celeborn nodded, “If you like, you may call me Ewythr. And of course, you must be exhausted. We by no means must talk now, I am just…I am overcome, Eressëaiel.”

Kalî frowned, shifting awkwardly in her seat.

Celeborn blinked, “My apologies, dear child. Do you prefer the name Kalî? ”

“Kalî isn’t actually my name, milord. Until this day, I had none.”

Celeborn looked confused, and Galadriel turned to regard her curiously.

Kalî continued, “Kalî is what I am or rather… what I was? It just means, ‘woman.’ This is what the Corsairs called me. Hostir’s family had called me Mîth, which means child. I don’t really know what I prefer… and now that I’ve said as much, Kalî isn’t exactly the most appropriate name, is it? All things considered... What did you say my name was?”  

Her face had turned soft as she rambled, and she regarded the two sadly as she reflected on what little she could remember of her youth. Mîth had not been a loving pet name, and while she had come to embrace Kalî as her title, it wasn’t what she was after all.

“Eressëaiel.” Galadriel answered softly.

“What does it mean?”

“It means… alone.” Celeborn said with some hesitation.

With that word Kalî’s heart broke, her face fell and the tears came. The cold irony of having such a name hitting her like a slap in the face. She suddenly felt a weight against her, Galadriel having sat down beside her, now enveloping her in a warm embrace.

“Do not despair, my dear. You are _not_ alone. Your uncle has always held you in his heart. Your mother surely loved you, and you will meet her and your father in Valinor. Until then, you have us. You have a home here, should you so desire it.”

Galadriel’s voice was a balm, and her assurance motherly. Kalî found that she had wrapped her own arms around the Lady’s waist and was clinging to her while she fought back the tears.

Celeborn approached, kneeling before her and placing a hand gently on her arm.

“You will never again be alone, gonîr.” he said, his voice almost harsh with conviction.

Kalî turned her head to look at him, smiling weakly and nodding. He returned her smile warmly, rubbing her arm.

Galadriel ran her hand down Kalî’s hair and released her slowly.

“Perhaps now you should rest. We have had rooms prepared for you, and when you are ready there is another here who would very much like to meet you.”

She stood then, and looked expectantly at Kalî, who blinked curiously at Galadriel.

“Our granddaughter, Arwen, has been most eager for your arrival since she was first told of your approach. She is younger than you are, but I think she would be a great companion for you while you settle in.” Celeborn said.

Kalî drew her arms back and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Exhaustion overwhelming her, the toll of gaining an entire race of people, as well as a home and family in such a short span of time becoming too much for her to fathom. Not even considering the confusion and disappointment of her brief accord with Haldir.

She stood, and Celeborn raised himself to stand beside her. He again offered his arm, which she took, and allowed him to lead her from the room.

* * *

They approached a door at the end of a long corridor and Celeborn led her inside. Within there was a quaint sitting room, with a large window and a divan beneath it. A sofa and chair were placed around a small, but elaborately carved table. There was another door leading to what appeared to be a bedroom just beyond.

"Rest now, child. When you are ready, we can talk more. We both have much to think about and discuss, but fortunately for elves, we have all the time in the world. You need not feel pressured. I will send Arwen to you in a few hours, if that is alright? There will be a feast tonight, though it need not be a great social gathering if you are uncomfortable. I very much want you to feel safe here, it is the very least I can do to honor your father."

Kalî nodded and hesitated, “Thank you… ehww…?”

Celeborn chuckled, “Eh-with-er. Ewythr.”

“Ewythr.” Kalî repeated. Smiling somewhat shyly.

Celeborn beamed, pressing a fist to his heart and nodding deeply.

She looked at him a moment, unsure of the proper response to this gesture she had seen so much of since arriving. Finally, she decided to go with what she knew, and she threw her arms around him, hugging him. She felt the moment of hesitation before he returned her embrace, squeezing her tight.

“[I faer nîn linna nan glass](My%20soul%20sings%20with%20joy).” He said softly, before stepping back. “Rest. I will see you soon.” Then he bowed and stepped back into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.  

* * *

 

There was a soft knock at the door and Kalî’s eyes shot open. Her hands grasped for her daggers, but found them gone. She scrambled off the mattress only to pause, remembering where she was. She didn’t remember falling asleep, she barely recalled stripping off her armor and collapsing onto the bed.  

The knocking continued. Kalî rubbed her eyes roughly, as she walked into the sitting room and called out, "Come in."

The door opened and a head of black hair peeked out from behind it, followed by bright blue eyes and a wide, smiling mouth. A lovely girl walked in, looking shy but eager.

Kalî looked at her and smiled, unable to help the sense of fondness that fell upon her, "You must be Arwen," she said.

The girl smiled wider, if it were possible, and nodded, "Yes. I am your cousin. Grandmother told me you were coming today, but she would not let me see you until you had rested from your journey."

Kalî laughed, almost darkly, "Yes, well, that's one word for it, I suppose."

Arwen approached her. She wore a dark blue velvet gown, with silver trim and her pale skin was starkly contrasted by her dark hair, much like Kalî's own. Though unlike Kalî, Arwen's dark hair was parted over her ears, which reached through the tresses like delicate flower petals.

Kalî smiled sadly, but then cleared her throat, "Uh, do you want to sit down? I don't really know... what or where anything is, though." She spun around somewhat awkwardly until she remembered the small table and chairs. She gestured her arm.

Arwen nodded and began walking across the room, which was when Kalî noticed the tray the girl had been carrying the entire time.

"I'm so sorry, do you need help with that, love?" she asked.

Arwen smiled and shook her head, setting the tray down on the table.

"No, thank you. I have brought some hot tea. I hope that is alright, I did not know what you would have preferred." The girl sat and moved her hands to begin preparing.

Kalî nodded in approval, then moved to sit. Arwen busied herself pouring tea and Kalî was left feeling awkward in the silence.

"So... cousin, then? And Galadriel is your grandmother?" She asked, trying to piece the family tree together with her mind still hazy from sleep.

"That is right. And my grandfather is your uncle. So perhaps there are some removals between us," Arwen shrugged, "but 'cousin' is far less complicated."

Kalî smiled and nodded, she didn't know too much about family dynamics beyond the basics. Hostith had aunts, and uncles, and cousins, though she never met most of them. And the ones she did were devils who were all long dead.

She took the cup that Arwen offered and took a cautious sip. She didn't actually know about tea, she'd heard about it, she had bought and sold it, but never actually drank it before. It was warm, and soothing. She hadn't realized how parched she was, and how much her throat hurt until the warmth filled her chest as she drank.

She gave a satisfied sigh, "Oh yes, I very much like tea, I think."

Arwen laughed softly as she sat opposite, "I am glad you like it." She took a sip from her own cup then.

Kalî looked towards the window, taking in what she could see of the city. They were very high up, but there were homes littered throughout the trees below, all the way down. With winding stairs that wrapped around the great trunks and sturdy bridges draped between the trees.

"It's beautiful here." Kalî said softly, barely aware that she had spoken at all.

Arwen turned her attention to the view as well. "Yes, it is," she agreed. "I love it here. But I do miss Imladris, and my father and brothers."

Kalî offered her a smile, she had no response to such a longing. Up until a few hours ago, she had no home or family to miss. And sitting here with her apparent cousin, she was still very much coming to grips with her new reality. She suddenly missed the familiarity of Haldir, and she doused the feeling with a scalding gulp of the hot tea.

Arwen saw Kalî's discomfort, and placed her hand on Kalî's arm, "Eressëaiel?"

Kalî blinked and sighed, "I have no memory of that name. Please, call me Kalî, at least for now."

Arwen nodded, still looking at her expectantly.

Kalî sighed, reluctant, "I was just thinking of the man, no not man... uh, elf? The elf. No, that sounds strange. Um..." she laughed awkwardly, "I was thinking of the one who brought me here. He and I spent quite a bit of time together on the way, and I find myself not quite used to his absence."

Arwen smiled, her eyes alight with curiosity, "I would very much love to hear all about your trip. And about this mysterious ellon."

Kalî frowned against the bitter thought, the confusion still raw and fresh. She told Arwen the story of how Haldir found her in the forest, and how he led her on a short, but emotional journey to the doorstep of Galadriel and Celeborn. She avoided the details of their kiss at Nimrodel, and tried to keep her tone as even as possible when discussing everything else. Kalî got the impression that Arwen could sense her conflict anyway, but was politely refraining from mentioning it.

Kalî turned the conversation to Arwen, asking about her home and family, and the matter of Haldir quickly faded to the back of her mind as she sat comfortably, sharing tea with her new cousin.


	11. Gwador (Brothers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orophin & Rúmil love their idiot brother.

" _What happened to your elleth, brother_?" Orophin said as he watched Haldir approach their post.

" _Hello to you, too_." he said gruffly, dropping his satchel and taking up his weapons, " _I delivered her to the Lady Galadriel, just as I said I would_."

" _Erynion said the two of you had seemed rather cozy at the Nimrodel. So we weren't expecting you back to soon._ " Rúmil chirped, leaning casually against a tree.

Haldir looked sternly at the two of them, but did not speak, busying himself with the straps of his quiver.

Orophin looked carefully at his elder brother, then turned to Rúmil, “ _Shut up, you goblin._ ”

Rúmil shrank, not as bold against his eldest brother without Orophin's support, and turned his attention back to his watch.

Haldir shook his head, stifling a pained sigh and began walking towards the edge of the forest.

Orophin let him get a few strides away before deciding to pursue him. He had long ago learned to gauge his brother’s mood based on how heavy his steps were and how quickly he moved away from company. And he could tell that Haldir was not annoyed, but melancholy, and a melancholy Haldir was a dangerous and impulsive Haldir.

This would not do.

“ _Haldir_!” Orophin called as he caught up to his despondent brother. He heard Haldir exhale through his teeth as he slowed, allowing the younger elf to catch up. When he did, Orophin grasped his brother firmly by the arm and continued walking away from the post.

Once the two were far from curious ears, he turned his brother to face him. Haldir did not meet his brother’s eyes.

“ _What happened, brother?_ ” Orophin asked quietly, but severely.

Haldir was silent for several moments, his face a mask. Finally, he dropped his head and fell heavily against a tree.

“ _I am a fool, ’phin_.” He whispered sadly.

“ _You are impossibly hard on yourself and act like an idiot sometimes, but you are no fool. What happened that has made you so forlorn?_ ”

“ _I_ … _Aímne_ … _it_ …” he trailed off, the pain in his chest too much to continue.

Orophin frowned and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, unsure yet if he wanted to embrace Haldir or hit him.

Orophin loved his brothers. And although he was the middle child, he felt overwhelmingly protective of both his siblings. Rúmil was young and stupid, often needing guidance and reprimand, but Haldir… he was the sensitive one. Hiding behind his carefully constructed walls while holding himself to impossibly high standards. To most he appeared reserved and diligent, but both Orophin and Rúmil knew him well enough to see the truth.

Yes, life had never been easy for his brother. He was considered strange and aloof by many, those who did not know him or who never bothered to try assumed his life to be a sad one, and seemed to dismiss him just as soon as lay eyes upon him. Believing his position within the wardens was one of charity and kindness on the part of the council, but Orophin knew well that there was not one marchwarden in Lothlórien who would not follow Haldir into the very heart of darkness.

Orophin remembered well his brother’s return from Gondor. And it took many years for him to finally get Haldir to tell him what it was that had happened in Rohan. That his brother had been so taken with a mortal woman was confusing to himself and Rúmil, but they did not judge him. For so long Haldir had been alone, and hearing his reasons for leaving this female made his suffering all the more unbearable.

For centuries following, Haldir was focused and determined in his work. He would not be swayed, could not be tempted. He ventured home only when his duties as a warden demanded it of him, and only rarely at the desperate behest of his brothers.

Little had changed since then.

Orophin had not thought much about the dark elleth he had seen his brother escorting, and Haldir had been all business regarding the situation. It was the following morning when Orophin first heard tell of that night at the Nimrodel, how Haldir and this strange female laughed and carried on together. How she smiled at him, touching and teasing him. How he had looked at her, how he had flown to her defense in a cold fury.

At first, Orophin could scarcely believe it. He had seen this elleth and she was frightening. Wild, piercing eyes, the skin of her face marred and dark, hair like orc blood. But if there was ever an elf who could see past that, it would be his dear brother.

And now, seeing how Haldir returned from Caras Galadhon, looking as pained and sorrowful as he had after Gondor, Orophin could not sit idly by.

“ _What about_ _Aímne, Haldir_? _This cannot be about her._ ” Orophin said.

Haldir looked miserable, and he slid down the tree, slumping to the ground. Orophin crouched beside him, awaiting an answer.

“ _I cannot do it again.”_ He said, _“I cannot bear it_.”

“ _Haldir, you cannot compare them. Aímne was mortal, she was always going to pass on. You did what you felt was best. This… Kalî… is elfkind. She is immortal. If you feel regard for her, as I suspect she does for you, I do not understand your resistance!_ ”

Orophin was frustrated. He was never very good at dealing with Haldir’s bouts of melancholy. It was times like these he wished their mother had not sailed west when she did. If she had only known what her eldest would go through…

“ _Do you know who she is? She is Amroth’s child, ‘phin. I am nothing. There is no hope for me. I will be fine, I just need time._ ” Haldir said, resigned.

Orophin knew well this next part, Haldir would shut himself away for months, brooding and torturing himself.

“ _No. You will not do this again. If you do not want her, then that is fine. You know as well as I that her status and yours mean nothing, not even to Celeborn. I heard about the other night, brother… she favors you. Everyone saw it! You will fall apart trying to pretend that that did not matter! I cannot bear to see you put yourself through the same torment you did after Aímne, and for no reason!_ ” Orophin hissed, dropping a knee to look his brother in the eye.

“ _It does not matter. She despises me. I treated her quite poorly and left her alone in the city. Any favor she may have held is gone now._ ” Haldir said sadly.

Orophin clenched his teeth.

“ _Why, brother? Why do you do this to yourself? Why will you not speak with Galadriel? How many times must I beg you?_ ”

“ _Galadriel is her aunt! She will not hear from me now._ ”

Haldir looked at the ground, it was hard to see his face but Orophin knew it was sullen.

They sat silently for a moment, Orophin scrabbling for words of wisdom, Haldir building momentum to slap on his mask and fall back into work. Much to Orophin’s dismay, Haldir beat him to it.

The elder brother pushed himself to his feet. Looking down now at his brother with the stony visage the younger knew painfully well.

“ _It is over, brother. Do not think on it. No harm in a passing fancy. I wish her well and I have work to do. Return to your post, ‘phin._ ” He said coldly, stepping past the still kneeling elf and resuming his trek for the tree line.

Orophin watched him go, shaking his head. Haldir had cared deeply for Aímne, maybe even loved her, but his decision to leave her was ultimately a kindness. Whatever this was with Kalî, it was most definitely not over.

Orophin had tried for years to convince Haldir to seek counsel with Galadriel. Convinced that her wisdom and insight could help Haldir better manage the demons that plagued his thoughts and the ease burdens he carried in his heart. Haldir always found a way to ignore, refuse, or put off Orophin’s pleadings, but enough was enough. There was only so much pain a person could stand, immortal or not. And he would not sit and watch his brother diminish.

Haldir disappeared into the trees, and Orophin returned to his post. Neither aware of the presence that had hung in the trees above them, listening to every word.

—————-

It was several days later when Orophin approached Rúmil with a rather serious errand. Haldir had been gruff and abrasive since his return from Calas Galadhon and Orophin was at his wits end.

“ _Rúmil. Your tour ends tomorrow. I want you to return to the city and deliver a message to the Lady Galadriel_.”

“ _Alright. What is the message_?” Rúmil asked warily.

 _“I want to request that she summon Haldir to the city, tell her that he needs her counsel but is refusing to appeal for aid._ ”

“ _Is this about-_ “

“ _Just do it. Do not ask questions_.”

Orophin sighed. He looked tired, likely from running interference between Haldir and curious wardens who sought to ask after Kalî.

Rúmil nodded, the urge to tell his brother about his eavesdropping on the tip of his tongue.

“ _Do **not** tell Haldir._ ” Orophin warned.

The young elf nodded again, refraining. He’d spent his life mastering his stealth, having two older brothers giving him plenty of cause and opportunity to practice. And since neither of them ever told him anything, he had become accustomed to using his skills to spy on them.

He watched with a sad resolve as Orophin walked away. He rarely got a chance to do something taxing, and never like this. Haldir was dark and moody, but Rúmil worshipped him. If he could somehow help Haldir find peace, Rúmil would consider it a worthy and noble deed.

He hastened back to camp, and set about preparing for his mission to Calas Galadhon.

 


	12. Sant (Garden)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little cuteness before the snoozefest that is the next chapter. Enjoy the 2 for 1!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a language barrier in this chapter. Words in regular form are Common Tongue, as ever & words in italics are Sindarin, words in bold are words that are understood by both parties. This is important. If it's not in bold, the other person has no idea what the other is saying.
> 
> Hover over links for translations.

Kalî crept quietly through the garden, keeping a lookout for any curious eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was even allowed to be in Galadriel’s garden and she was more than a little tired of the alarmed, wide-eyed stares she’d been getting when roaming around the city.

She’d spent the first few days inside, getting comfortable with navigating the huge talan, being shadowed by Arwen, and spending time with Celeborn.

He was a busy elf, but he was always pleasant and was always happy to pause his work when he saw Kalî curiously poking around the study or library. Sometimes they would walk the grounds, Kalî would tell him about her life in the South and he would tell her about their family. It had been a pleasant time, all things considered.

Though Haldir was never far from her thoughts, it was puzzling to her that she could feel such persistent longing for someone she had only known for such a short while. It made little sense. Sure, they were quite thrown together, and the time they shared was emotionally charged, but at the end of the day… it had still only _been_ a day.

Even with Haldir haunting her steps, she hadn’t yet opened up to Arwen or Celeborn about it. In truth, she wasn’t sure how it would be received, and she was concerned how it might affect their opinions of him. She also wasn’t sure she wanted bring up something she herself didn’t quite understand. 

All this she pondered while quietly roaming about the garden.

* * *

 

Rúmil began the trek up the hill towards the home of Galadriel. He had never been alone in her presence before, the thought causing him a great amount of anxiety, which increased with every step forward.

It was when he reached the winding stairs when he was able to look out over the garden. He was stunned to find Kalî crawling along the bushes, reaching into the earth, as if searching for something.

He hesitated. Orophin has given him a job to do, and he shuddered to think how cross his brother would be if he dithered, but his curiosity was too great. This unusual female, that had somehow enraptured his brother, was _right there._ He turned, and slowly crept back down the stairs, slipping off the path towards the garden.

* * *

 

Kalî had taken to collecting stones for a game she wanted to teach Arwen when she noticed a flash of red in her periphery. There was a rustling of leaves and she stood slowly.

“Come out.” She said sternly, sensing the presence of another in the garden.

She blinked in surprise when Rúmil emerged from behind a trellis, looking both surprised and embarrassed.

 _"How did you know I was there?”_ He whined, stepping out into the clearing.

She was silent, having no idea what he’d said and still rather alarmed that Haldir’s little brother had been hiding in the bushes.

“ **What** are you doing here? Does **Haldir** know?”

“ _I am here to speak with_ **_Galadriel_ ** _about_ **_Haldir_ ** _.”_ Rúmil said blindly.

“ **Galadriel** is in the parlor, I think, with **Arwen**.”

“ _No, I have no business with Lady_ **_Arwen._ ** ”

Kalî furrowed her brow, chewing her lip.

“Look Red, I have no idea **what** you’re saying. Or **what** you **want**.” She offered, knowing he would not understand. “I don’t think your brother would be too happy to know you were sniffing around here.”

Kalî walked over to a small stone table, dropping the small collection of rocks she’d been holding.

“But lucky for you, **Haldir’s** not talking to me. So… your sorry hide is spared for now.”

Rúmil stepped beside her, curious. She had ten stones, all of them similarly shaped, and sized. Five of them were a sparkling white, while the other five were brown.

She brushed her hands together, then wiped them on her trousers.

“Fancy a game, love?” Kalî said with a bitter laugh, sitting down beside the table.

Rúmil watched as she drew on the surface with one of the white stones, two lines down and two crossing them, making a grid. She motioned him over with her hand, and he knelt across from her, watching with interest.

She pushed the dark stones towards him, then held up the white stone in her hand.

“ **Me**.” She said, gesturing to her chest with the rock. Kalî then put a finger on a dark stone, then pointed at Rúmil.

“ **You**.”

He nodded.

She took the white stone in her hand and placed it in the center of the grid, then nodded at him pointing at each of the 8 remaining spaces that surrounded it. She held up one finger.

Rúmil smiled. He knew what she wanted him to do, and they hadn’t even had to say anything! He wondered if she had a lot of experience with people who did not speak her tongue.

He selected one of his stones and placed it in a space beside hers.

When she placed a second stone below his, she held up a hand. She pointed to her two stones, then the empty space that would align the three. She put a hand on her chest.

“I win, if I get this space.”

Rúmil blinked at her. She frowned, tilting her head.

“ **You** need to block **me**.” She pointed at him, then made a wall with her hand between her stones and the empty space. Holding up three fingers, she kept speaking.

“Three. Three in a row wins.” She pointed again at the aligning spaces, then clapped.

Rúmil put his stone in the corner space.

She smiled.

The first round ended in a draw. After the second draw, she let him win and could see the moment when the simple rules clicked in his mind.

Rúmil was delighted. This elleth had fashioned a game out of rocks. A game with minimal rules, but requiring basic strategy and forethought. He couldn’t wait to return to the marches and teach his friends.

“ _I understand why_ **_Haldir_ ** _finds you so intriguing_ . _I had found you quite scary when first we met._ ” Rúmil said as she cleared the board for another round.

“I never got to teach this to **Haldir**. Hadn’t crossed my mind, really. It’s a child’s game, but it’s better than a library full of foreign books that I can’t bloody read.”

Rúmil placed a stone.

“ _I worry for my brother. He is quite melancholy since he left the city._ ** _Orophin_** _believes he is troubled over you._ _I heard them talking about it. I think_ ** _Haldir_** _is in_ ** _love_** _with you. But no one would tell me anyway.”_

Kalî’s hand paused mid-air. She blinked and shook her head, finishing her move. She had learned very little Sindarin since arriving, and the few words she could understand as Rúmil spoke made little sense to her.  

“I… um, **what** ? What about **Haldir** ? Did he say something to **you**?”

 _“We were told about how you and_ **_Haldir_ ** _carried on at_ **_Nimrodel_ ** _.”_

“ **Yes** , he took **me** to the **Nimrodel** . And **Nimrodel** was my mother… Did he say something to **you**?” Kalî looked up as Rúmil placed his game piece.

Rúmil smiled, uncertain. 

She sighed, “Damn fool kisses **me** and then goes cold, dumps **me** here and buggers off without a bloody word.”

Rúmil watched Kalî as she spoke, noting how her face had turned sad.

“ ** _Haldir_ **?” He asked.

She frowned and blocked his move. She leaned against her hand and nodded sullenly. He placed a piece in a corner of the grid and Kalî was quick to take her move.

“Of course, Red. **You** keep bringing him up. I assumed that’s **what** we were talking about.”

Rúmil saw Kalî was distracted by her thoughts, her placements on the board random, leaving herself wide open for defeat. He felt badly now, having upset her.

He made the winning move, and was rewarded with a genuine smile from Kalî. She reached across the board and pat him on the head.

“You’re a quick study, love.”

She pushed herself to her feet, and brushed at her backside with one hand, while she pushed aside the stones and rubbed her fingers roughly against the table surface, smearing away the lines.

Rúmil scooped the stones into his hands and offered them to her. She smiled and shook her head, pushing his hands back gently.

“Keep them.”

Kalî could not help but laugh as Rúmil’s eyes lit up like a child being given a sweet. He clutched them to his chest before carefully placing them into a small pouch that hung at his belt.

“[Navear](Farewell/Good-bye) _._ ” She said, tapping him lightly on the nose with her finger before turning to walk away.

Before he could stop himself he blurted, “ **Haldir** ... **You** ... **Yes**?”

She spun around, eyes wide. Rúmil’s expression was so open and hopeful, it made Kalî’s chest ache.

She smiled weakly and shrugged, “That would be nice, love, but…” she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, “ **Haldir no want me**.”

Rúmil blinked in surprise, but stood speechless as his new friend slipped out of the garden, making her way back up into the talan.

He was so confused.

Did she not understand what he meant? Or did she genuinely think Haldir had no desire for her? If that’s even what she meant with those few words.

He stood dumbly in the garden for a few silent moments pondering the encounter with his brother’s strange elleth. He had to talk to ‘Phin. Orophin would know what to do. Orophin always knew what to do.

He hesitated, unsure whether to follow through with his task of speaking with the Lady of Light on Haldir’s behalf, or taking this new information about Kalî to Orophin. Perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding? He did not want to trouble the Lady over nothing, or see his intrusion cause tension in her home.

Finally, he made his decision and bounded out of the garden, down the hill, and tore west for the forest.


	13. Hyrwyddo (Advancement)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celeborn addresses the Council on military matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over links for translations.

Celeborn sat at the head of the large table, watching silently as the council milled into the room and seated themselves. He could tell some were curious about the purpose behind this meeting, seeing how they were not due to reconvene for several months. Others, as he expected, looked put out.

As calm settled over the gathering, Celeborn moved to address them.

“ _Thank you all for responding to my summons. I apologize for any inconvenience. These matters can be settled swiftly, if we can come to terms, and then you can all return to your business_.”

He rose from his seat, and began to walk the perimeter of the room. He always found it easier to keep his thoughts organized if he was in motion.

“ _As I am sure you are all aware, for the last one thousand years the marchwardens have protected our borders. And for all those years, they have been governed by this very council. I have, over the years, spoken with many of our wardens about the state of the land in and around the Golden Wood, listened to reports on the stirrings in Moria, and fielded many complaints about training and scheduling amongst them. As the governing council, it has been our responsibility to maintain order within the ranks, as well as to tend to the needs and concerns of our forces_.”

He stopped, looking around the table to see that he had everyone’s full attention.

“ _We have failed in this_.”

There were several grunts, gasps, and mutterings amongst the council members, but no one spoke up to argue.

Celeborn nodded and continued, _“Yes. For hundreds of years, our command and organization of the marchwardens has been a most humbling display of incompetence. An exercise in futility. A-_ ”

“ _Yes, Celeborn. We get the point. We have been at peace for 800 years. The wardens are hardly more than an overuse of resources. What is this about?_ ” One councilor snapped.

There were a few murmurs of agreement, others passed stern looks at the dissenters.

Celeborn sighed, “ _How many of you have spoken to the wardens from your districts? How many of you actually read the reports from the Nimrodel about the increased Orc activity in the West? In the South? How many of you have truly listened to the world? The Greenwood is being consumed by a cancerous darkness. We have become blind to the upset in the East. Thranduil and the forces of Mirkwood cannot stand alone when the time comes. And my Lady has seen it. The time will come._ ”

Celeborn eased back into his seat at the head of the table. All eyes were on him, some humble, others contemptuous.

He looked around the table silently for a moment before speaking again.

_“We must look after our borders, and prepare our forces for the inevitable. We cannot regiment them ourselves. I am proposing we instate a[Cordagar](General%20of%20the%20War%20Council), and make this individual our [Minyaheru](First%20General) for when the Elvish forces of Middle-Earth must come together under one banner.” _

_“My Lord Celeborn, do you not feel this measure is a little extreme? I can understand assigning someone to organize and train the wardens, but a Cordagar? Do we even have someone qualified for such a position?”_   One councillor asked.  

 _“Extreme? No.”_ Celeborn replied simply, _“For even if the need was not great, where is the harm in being prepared? If our forces were effectively and efficiently governed, the tax of our resources would be lessened. It is our own stagnation that strains our means, not the wardens. As for a qualified candidate; while I will hear nominees from the council, I have someone in mind whom I am certain is the ideal choice.”_

Celeborn leaned forward on his elbows, and folded his hands.

_“Five hundred years ago, I sent a young Galadhrim to live amongst men. He joined the wardens after Moria when he was but 300 years old and when I reached out for volunteers to travel abroad he was the first to answer the call. For a century he lived in Rohan, he trained with the Rohirrim, then he trained the Rohirrim. In Minas Tirith he studied diplomacy as an ambassador to the Steward of Gondor._

_After his return, he resumed his duties as a marchwarden, and for the last four centuries he has, effectively, managed and trained the wardens himself. He has been their sole representative here in Calas Galadhon, taking up the mantle of Captain and General without so much as notice from this very council. Even myself.”_

_“You are not suggesting… Haldir?”_ One of the council asked.

 _“Haldir? Surely not.”_ Agreed another.

Celeborn clenched his jaw and jumped to his feet.

_“Yes! I mean Haldir. Son of Ewethedir. Who took full responsibility for his young brothers whilst protecting our lands. One of the few able to speak the common tongue, who knows and understand the minds and motives of men, can and has been doing the very job we are creating here today for hundreds of years. Whatever notions you have on this young ellon are base and ignorant and have no place within this council.”_

He paused, taking a deep breath. Celeborn had never understood, nor tolerated this prejudice against elves like Haldir. Who never quite _fit in_ , and with Eressëaiel’s return, his impatience with such dogmatism had increased tenfold.

 _“Haldir was the warden who discovered my niece in the forest. Had it been any other warden, any other elf who came across her, she may never have been returned to us. He had the ability, the knowledge to break with her and discover her identity. I give thanks to_ _Êru_ _for this. And I do not put him forth for this reason alone, as I have explained he is more than qualified and has already assumed the duties without any of the rewards. But I do feel he has more than earned recognition for his efforts, and all the hard work he has done for Lothlórien.”_

There was an awkward quiet amongst the council while Celeborn evened his breathing. It had been clear from the beginning that he would have the approval of the vast majority of those present, but there were a choice few who would be more difficult to convince, not that he actually _needed_ to convince them.

 _“Why could we not just delegate a member of this council to prioritize management of the wardens? And leave the regimentation of the Elvish forces to Elrond or Thranduil? We need not frighten the populace with an[Urdd Marchog](Knight%20Order%20\(ceremony\)), they may believe us to be under threat!” _ Another councillor suggested.

Celeborn folded his arms and cocked his head at him.

_“And whom amongst you feels capable of assuming this role? Not one elf here has so much as touched a sword in over a millennium. I have sent messengers to Imladris and Mirkwood informing them of my intentions, and of Eressëaiel’s return. They will no doubt be sending representatives to Lórien within weeks, we can confer with them about the state of their forces then. But our people will fear no threat, as Galadriel will assure them that there is none that exists that cannot be rendered by our military. The danger is centuries away. I am only asking that we prepare for it, and not remain idle and peace-blind.”_

The councillor backed down, turning to look at the last of the opposition, who sat stoic at the other end of the table.

_“My son Rimedur is a warden. He is my youngest, but he is noble and of better breed and upbringing than Haldir. I should like to put him forth as a candidate.”_

_“Noted. Anyone else?”_ Celeborn said flatly, gazing around at the council. The wave of murmurs and head shakes satisfied, and Celeborn nodded sagely. _“Very well. I will approach the wardens with these nominations, and they shall elect their[Kanoheru](Lord%20Commander). Please prepare your offices to relinquish any and all documents on the marchwardens within your districts and have them brought to me at your earliest convenience. That will be all.” _

_“My Lord, what of your niece? Should we be expecting a coronation in addition to an Urdd Marchog?”_

Celeborn paused, and smiled to himself, _“For now, we are content to help her adjust to her new environment and acclimate to being a part of our community. I have no desire to burden her with political expectations. Though perhaps I will involve her in the preparations for the Urdd Marchog.”_

He nodded and excused himself while the other elves dispersed. It had not occurred to him until the moment he said it, but he imagined Eressëaiel would be pleased to be a part of the ceremony, and though she had not mentioned him since arriving, he imagined she would be delighted to see a familiar face in Haldir.

 


	14. Galu (Blessings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celeborn shares his plans with Kalî, and Kalî recalls an intense moment with Haldir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hover over links for translations.

"[Hîn milui](dear%20child), walk with me." Celeborn said, gesturing away from the market stall where Kalî had been haggling fiercely with another elf over a pair of fine Elvish short swords.

She nodded at her uncle, then turned a pointed look to the smith and grinned, "This isn't over, love."

Maldor, the eldest son and apprentice of the master smith, just smiled and shook his head. The Lady Eressëaiel had found it difficult to accept goods and services at no cost, and spent much of her time in the market trying to barter with the shops, in an effort to pay them for their wares.

Many of the artisans and vendors had just taken to accepting her various pieces of jewelry and baubles, only to subtly return them later to Arwen or Celeborn. There were others who had become wise to Kalî's antics and playful nature though, and gave her the squabble she was truly craving.

Maldor was clever enough to discover the best way to please this particular patron, and their negotiations would often take several days before they could come to the inevitable agreement that she would take the goods and give nothing but courtesy and good grace in return. He expected this week's bartering to end no differently.

He smiled and bowed respectfully to her, nodding deeply at Celeborn as well, before carefully wrapping swords back up in cloth and stowing them under the stall.

Kalî walked along with her uncle as they moved through the bustling market. Celeborn was never one to raise his voice, so it came as no surprise to Kalî that he remained silent until they had fully retreated from the din.

"How have you been adjusting, Eressëaial? I apologize for my absence of late. Arwen tells me you have taken quite well to her Sindarin lessons, but you still refuse to wear the gowns she selected for you."

Kalî shrugged and slipped her hand around Celeborn's arm. He glanced down before chuckling softly and patting her hand gently with his own.

It had been several weeks since she entered the city with Haldir, though it felt like years since then. She had become accustomed, somewhat, to the more reserved nature of the elves but found it difficult to shut off her more mannish habits. Her penchant for physical touch being one of them, though the few elves in her regular acquaintance had easily acclimated it.

"[Mae govannen](Well%20met). [Man eneth lín](What%20is%20your%20name)? [Eressëaial i eneth nín](My%20name%20is%20Eress%C3%ABaial). [Navaer](Fareweel/Good-bye)." Kalî deadpanned.

Celeborn shook his head and laughed.

"Well, you would at least make it across the yard."

She laughed. Arwen had sat with her for many hours teaching her various phrases, and she had slowly begun to parse through the grammar. But Arwen was not a natural teacher, and would often become swiftly distracted or bored with the lessons.

There were a few elves in the city who spoke a bit of the common tongue, Maldor spoke enough that she could effectively argue with him. Most others suffered through her broken Sindarin until smiling politely and bidding her well.

"I'm sure it'll come to me eventually, Ewythr. What was it you wanted to discuss with me, then?"

"I wanted to talk to you about your friend Haldir."

At the mere mention of his name, Kalî felt as though she were falling. She'd been able to keep her pathetic infatuation to herself for the most part, made easier by Haldir's constant absence. Arwen had chipped through her facade after just a week of Kalî's evasiveness on the subject. Though Kalî had then insisted it was a girlish fancy and implored her cousin not to think too much of it.

In truth, he was never far from her thoughts, which frustrated her to no end. Rúmil's unusual visit in the garden had only thrown more kindling on the confounding pyre that burned within her.

She swallowed hard, "What about him?"

If her tone was cold or overly harsh, Celeborn did not seem to notice.

"He is being considered for a great honor. Long has he diligently served with the marchwardens and has proved himself capable numerous times. Given the shifting balance of the world, I have decided it is time to instate a Lord Commander to lead our forces, and should the time come, lead the whole of elvish might on Middle Earth."

Kalî's head spun, and she gripped his arm tightly. Celeborn stopped and turned to her, concern marking his face.

"There is nothing to fear, child. This is precautionary at best. I would not have you worry, we are safe here."

Kalî blinked dumbly at him. Her thoughts had not been of her own safety, but of Haldir's. Images of war and death and pain flashed in her mind. Scenes of carnage and destruction she knew too well.

Even in the growing comfort of Celeborn's house, Kalî had refused to go into great detail about her life with the Corsairs. The scars on her face told enough of pain on their own, and none ever asked her to elaborate. But her body, was a veritable tapestry of suffering that was easily hidden beneath tunics and trousers, and there was only one person in Lothlórien who had born witness to it.

She thought about that night a lot. Back at the Nimrodel, before the sun had risen and everything suddenly went to shit.

When she had well and truly bared herself...

* * *

After they had retired up into the flet, long after the other wardens had departed and the fire dwindled into nothing, Haldir and Kalî quietly danced around each other to prepare for rest.

Without a thought for Haldir, she had made quick work of her shoes and trousers, dropping them unceremoniously beside her bedroll. Then she stripped off her leather corset, mail, and finally her chemise. She had been standing there in nothing but her small clothes when she heard a gasp behind her and remembered that she hadn't been alone on the flet.

When she turned around, he was staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes. She had been about to tease him, was considering a wiggle of her hips or a suggestive comment when she realized the look on his face wasn't bashful or shocked, but one of utter fascination, with a deep furrow of concern on his brow.

Haldir had just removed his cloak, and it slipped from his fingers, seemingly forgotten, as he approached her. It had startled Kalî, as she had never seen him so intensely focused as he was in that moment. On her. It seemed all sense of propriety and common courtesy had left her usually calm and respectful marchwarden.

He stepped into her space, reaching out and softly running his fingers down the bare skin of her shoulder to trace the marred remains of an arrow wound just below her collarbone.

"What…?" He had breathed, unable to finish the question and his eyes still raking over every inch of her exposed flesh.

Kalî watched him, her heart in her throat as she marveled at his boldness. Not that she had minded, as any sense of modesty Kalî may have once had was long ago lost at sea. Being so naked before this elf she barely knew wasn't strange for her, she could have just as easily and as comfortably walked through the camp in broad daylight and not have bat an eye. But she had come to assume elves had a much keener sense of reticence when it came to physical modesty, and had not expected this level of audacious curiosity to be possible.

Furthermore, the feel of his rough fingers against the more delicate skin of her chest had her struggling to find the words to answer him.

"Orc." She finally managed, glancing down at his hand as it traced along the dark pink petals of what had once been a blooming wound. His eyes found hers at her word and he flinched, she wondered if he had engaged with orcs himself and knew just how savage and deadly their bolts were.

Though just as quickly as their eyes met, his gaze and fingers traveled down, over her wrap to her middle, where four deep, shining ribbons cut across her belly from her ribs to her navel. With one calloused finger pressing softly against each glimmering scar, he gently followed them across her skin.

Again his eyes met hers, questioning.

"Warg…" she croaked, then swallowed thickly.

Kalî began to wonder just how long Haldir might continue to be so daring with her, so shameless and immodest in her presence, threadbare as she was, his hands eager and interested, exploring her body. She found that she could not bring herself to move, or even breathe too deeply for fear of snapping him out of whatever wonder had possessed him.

His hand came to rest at her waist, his thumb lightly stroking the longest of the warg's claw marks.

Haldir stepped closer then, and she could feel the heat of him against her chest. His other hand came up between them to brush against her lips. She closed her eyes, her breath hot against his fingers. When her eyes fluttered open, she caught the curious inquiry in his, and something more.

She slowly leaned her head back, allowing his fingers to drift from the coolness of her lips, and trail stardust down her chin. She bared her neck to his touch, revealing a river of silvery skin that flowed across the expanse of her throat, glistening in the moonlight.

He inhaled sharply, wrapping his fingers gently around her throat and tilting his head to inspect the gruesome scar.

Her voice caught, and her heart felt as though it might burst from her chest. She recalled every single horrible detail of how she had received those scars. She blinked away the memories, releasing a well of tears.

"Mutiny…" she whimpered, her voice wavering as her chin trembled.

She felt his fingers tighten ever so slightly as he seemed to consider what she'd said, the suggestion that both scars were inflicted upon her by her own shipmates, whom she trusted, and the implications of even more behind the pain her voice, obviously understood.

The severity of the unspoken confession shattered the intensity around them, and Haldir moved his hand to the back of her neck, tightening his grip on her waist and pulled her against him. He said nothing, just pressed his lips to her hair as she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest.

* * *

Celeborn was still talking as Kalî resurfaced from her thoughts. She closed her eyes, pressing hard against them with her fingers until she saw grey, then shook her head as she blinked her uncle back into focus. He hadn't seemed to notice her lapse in attention.

"Haldir has already been serving as captain of the wardens in all but name for centuries now, I wish to pay him his dues."

She nodded, her thoughts still a dull blur. After a moment, she finally spoke,

"So… what does this have to do with me?" She tried to keep her tone light, against the pounding in her ears.

"I would like you to come with me to the borders to address the wardens; present the candidates to them and begin the preparations for the  _Urdd Marchog_ , that is the official ceremony to vest the  _Cordagar_ , which would be his title as Commander, as well as declaring his seat on the council."

"Candidates? Who else has been selected?" She questioned, not that she expected to know whomever it was.

Celeborn sighed, "A councillor's son, Rimedur, is also a warden. His father has nominated him. It is little more than a formality. I have no doubt of Haldir's election."

"Rimedur? That's the little shit what insulted me," Kalî blurted. Celeborn looked startled by her language and she cringed.

"Sorry. He uh… apparently said some very cruel things about myself, but Haldir set him to rights. No harm done."

Celeborn looked stern for a moment, then sighed. He was not surprised to hear that Rimedur was as uncouth as his father, but to hear Haldir had, once again, come to the aid of his niece, only hardened his resolve to see Haldir so honored.

"We will leave after our guests arrive, as instating a minyaheru affects their realms as well."

He began walking again, gently pulling Kalî along and away from her thoughts. His words caught up to her as she steadied her pace alongside him.

"Wait… What guests?"


	15. Llythyrau (Letters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To whom it may concern...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay... this isn’t much of an offering I admit, but I hope it tides you over a bit longer. 
> 
> This year has been an experiment in futility for me, so I’ve been struggling with my projects. I am sorry for the wait. 
> 
> Leave me lots of comments in the meantime. I miss you guys!

_My dear Elrond,_

_I write to you to extend an invitation to Lothlórien. Your wisdom and expertise are dearly welcome in these times, and there are matters which I wish to discuss with you. Fret not, Arwen is vastly content, and has found companionship in a most astounding relation._

_It brings me joy to share the news that Eressëaiel arrived in Lothlórien two months ago. She has been through a long and harrowing ordeal in her short life, but she has endured. I would not go into detail here, but would regale you with the tale upon your arrival, should you find a journey east amenable. Arwen would delight in introducing you to her beloved cousin. The two elleths have developed quite the friendship, and it warms my heart._

_There are more serious matters that I should like to address, though my Lady has already imparted some of the more dire details to you already. You are fully aware of the growing danger and the inevitability we face in this Age. I wish to invest a Minyaheru, and would not deign to do so without conferring with our Western kin._

_Please accept my invitation to meet with us. Come see your daughter, as I am certain you wish to. Meet my niece, I have no doubt you would find her story most fascinating. I await your response._

__\- Celeborn_ _

* * *

_My Lord Thranduil,_

_I hope that you and your kin are well. I am writing with glad tidings of the return of my niece Eressëaiel. She has returned to us against all odds, and since you and her father, my late brother Amroth, were at a time very close I felt it prudent to inform you of her arrival in Lothlórien._

_There is another matter, one which I would not go into great detail here. That said, I am seeking to invest a Cordagar and am extending invitations to Imladris and the Woodland Realm to be present for the selection of a candidate and for the Urdd Marchog. It is my hope that you can attend, but I understand the burdens of your position, and implore you to send, at least, an emissary in your stead._

_I await your reply._

__\- Celeborn_ _

* * *

_My Lord Celeborn,_

_Many thanks for your most generous invitation. While it would do my heart good to see my beloved Arwen, and meet the Heir of Amroth, I can not leave Rivendell at this time. However, you are correct that I do indeed share your belief that an Urdd Marchog is a most necessary thing. And while the danger is far, there is no reason not to prepare. Therefore, in my stead I will send one who is perhaps even more qualified to consult with you than myself, and one who is all the more eager to meet the child of his dearest friend. Glorfindel made for Lothlórien with haste and enthusiasm. I dare say he may reach Lothlórien before this letter._

_Give my love to Arwen, her brothers and I miss her terribly and we count the days until we can reunite. We send our regards to Lady Galadriel and Eressëaiel as well._

__\- Elrond_ _

* * *

_Lord Celeborn,_

_My thanks for your consideration in these matters. I am most intrigued to hear that Amroth’s heir has been found and will make for Lórien at my earliest convenience. However, it is as you say and I cannot leave at present._

_In my absence I will send my son, Legolas. He will benefit from exploring the world beyond Mirkwood and associating with our Western kin. Dealing with military matters of adjoining lands will also do well for his education and experience, preparing him for his eventual ascension to my throne._

_As it happens, he remains unwed. Perhaps he will find a match in your niece, it is certainly something her father and I onced discussed long ago._

_Until we speak again._

__\- Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm_ _

* * *

_Haldir,_

_Lord Glorfindel will be arriving from Imladris within a fortnight, weather permitting. Prince Legolas also travels to us from Mirkwood and will be but a week or two behind him._

_I request that you personally guide these entourages into the city, and ask you to then stay in Caras Galadhon, as I have something of great import to discuss with you._

_You should expect to be unavailable for duty, please make arrangements to accommodate for your absence on the Marches._

_We look forward to your arrival._

__\- Celeborn_ _  


	16. Iavas - Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of our esteemed guests arrive in Lothlórien. Haldir struggles with his demons.

“Orophin, he is in her thoughts, I know it! Perhaps, if they just-“  
  
“I did not send you to the city to speak with the Corsair, Rúmil! Your only purpose was to appeal to Galadriel and you did not even speak to her!” Orophin hissed, taking long strides ahead of his younger brother as they both struggled to catch up with their elder.   
  
Haldir had moved out on his own and was hours ahead of them, completely unaware of having left Rúmil at the mercy of their brother’s ire.   
  
When Rúmil had returned from Caras Galadhon he was quite excited to share his news with Orophin. After his meeting with Kali, he had spent the length of his return to the marches ruminating over the encounter. They had not really been able to discuss anything, with so few words understood between them, but it was obvious that the mere mention of Haldir’s name had had a profound effect on her. She had been shy, she would blush, she would grow distant. Whatever it was that had transpired between them, it weighed heavily on both of them.   
  
Orophin had not wanted to hear any of his excuses. He was furious that Rúmil had failed in this one thing asked of him. In the short time that had passed since Rúmil returned from the city, Orophin had renewed his attempts to encourage Haldir to seek guidance with a vigor. Haldir had, for all intents and purposes, managed to appear as stoic and unmovable as ever, even in the face of those who asked after the strange elleth he had accompanied before.   
  
However, he could not hide from his brothers. Orophin had managed to conceal his attempt to appeal for aid behind his back with Rúmil, and kept Rúmil from upsetting Haldir with his wild tale of playing children’s games in Galadriel’s garden. He felt sure such knowledge would only stir Haldir into a frenzy of angst; a storm of which he wasn’t sure his dear brother could weather alone.

* * *

Haldir reached the Egladil and looked sadly down at his destination. Celeborn’s message had not explained what he was being summoned to the city for, nor why it was Haldir who had to escort the entourages.  
  
There were no great festivals or feast days approaching. Lothlórien hadn’t had a visit from the East in ages. Why would Glorfindel, one of the most notorious ellons of the last age, and Legolas, the Prince of the Woodland Realm, be coming to Caras Galadhon?   
  
His traitorous thoughts could conjure only one reason, and it made his heart heavy and his temper short.   
  
It had been three months since he’d left Kalî on Celeborn’s steps like a foundling.   
  
Three months of enduring the memory of her face as he walked away, betraying her trust and spurning her friendship.   
  
Three months since that night on the flet.   
  
And the morning that followed.   
  
He clenched his jaw and shook his head.   
  
Despite his most desperate attempts these long weeks not to, he thought of her constantly. He worried after her, feared for her, kept himself assaulted by grievous thoughts of her being alone and confused in the city, at the mercy of the stares and whispers he himself was haunted by. He wanted to know she was well, that she was not only safe, but that she felt safe.     
  
He knew he had no right. He had abused her faith, confused and betrayed her trust. He hadn’t even realized how valuable her trust had been before that night at the Nimrodel. That moment under the moonlight, the kiss at dawn, and then him; ruining everything.   
  
There was a small, logical part of him knew full well that he couldn’t speak to how she felt, that the bulk of his horrific thoughts were the product of his own self-loathing. But that part was but one voice; gentle and awash in the angry din of a hundred others.   
  
Haldir stood upon the docks on the Anduin, the boat carrying one of either of their esteemed guests, swelling out of the distance like a harbinger of ill omen. He frowned despite himself, acknowledging the unfairness of such a comparison. He had no rights or claims to Kalî’s hand, and had likely well mucked up the chance of friendship, let alone the foreign concept of courtship. If Glorfindel or Legolas were here to vie for her affections, he had no place to begrudge them, or her, that chance.   
  
Even so, the thought sat in his gut like bedrock, timeless and unmoving. 

* * *

Orophin and Rúmil had reached their brother’s side just an hour after he arrived, no doubt at the former’s rushing and insistence, attuned as he was to Haldir’s stormy countenance and departure.  
  
No words were exchanged, but Orophin could see clearly the apprehension on the lines of Haldir’s face, and it didn’t take a seer of Galadriel’s power to understand the thoughts in his mind.   
  
Rúmil looked beseechingly at Orophin, a silent plea with his brother to allow him to tell Haldir of his brief visit with Kalî. Orophin aptly ignored the young ellon, focusing instead on his elder brother, who was currently watching the approaching vessel as though it had offended him quite personally.   
  
The three of them waited in silence.   
  
The boat was moored, with Rúmil clumsily assisting the other elves that had leapt from the craft to secure it to the dock.   
  
Regardless of his tumultuous feelings on the matter, Haldir could not help but feel awed as Glorfindel stepped off the boat and onto the planks of the dock. Worldly and confident, the ellon seemed everything the tales had claimed him to be. He towered above his entourage, with long, golden hair and sharp blue eyes. He had a long, handsome face with an easy smile. He approached Haldir and nodded respectfully.   
  
“ _Mae govannen,_ Glorfindel _._ Haldir _i eneth nín._ ” Haldir said, bowing.   
  
Glorfindel looked thoughtfully at each of the wardens, though gave Haldir curious consideration. Marking on his almost alien features and cold tone of voice, he couldn’t help but feel he had somehow offended this unusual ellon.   
  
He bowed his head.   
  
“ _Le hannon_ . It is my honor to be here.”   
  
“My brothers and I will escort you into the city. No doubt they eagerly await your arrival.” Haldir said, trying to school himself into a softer tone.   
  
Glorfindel smiled, his eyes crinkling easily.   
  
“I left Imladris is such haste I honestly believed I would arrive before word of my departure had been received. Alas, there is no avoiding Galadriel’s sight.”   
  
“I suppose not, my lord.” Haldir grumbled helplessly, his mind immediately drawing to Orophin’s repeated attempts to convince him to seek her counsel.   
  
He cleared his throat roughly, “Whenever you are ready, we can begin the journey to Caras Galadhon, my lord.”   
  
Haldir walked silently and stoically ahead of the entourage, dreading every step that brought him closer to the city. No amount of rumination made the thought of seeing her any easier to bear.   
  
His brothers stayed back with the elves of Imladris, listening eagerly to Glorfindel's friendly chatter.   
  
“I could not leave fast enough. The circumstances of my visit notwithstanding, I am overjoyed to make the acquaintance of Amroth’s heir. Her father had been a dear friend, and no doubt her survival and return will have cast a light on dear Celeborn’s heart. I find myself eager to hear about her travels, so few elves this age venture far from home.”   
  
Rúmil could not be contained.   
  
“My brother lived amongst Men for 100 years! And it was he that discovered her in the forest!”   
  
Glorfindel cast a curious look to Orophin, who was walking beside them. The ellon simply shook his head in response, and turned his eyes to the front of their caravan at Haldir, who seemed ignorant of their musings. Surprise flitted across Glorfindel’s face before he turned back to Rúmil.   
  
“Did he now? I would be most interested in hearing about that. Why did he not say as much?”   
  
Orophin rushes to speak ahead of the eager Rúmil.   
  
“My brother is a very private ellon, my lord. Perhaps it did not occur to him that it would be of any interest, especially to someone as worldly as yourself.”   
  
“Nonsense! I cannot claim to have lived amongst _Men_ , of all the creatures of the world. What an undertaking! I am most impressed, actually.”   
  
Before Orophin could even object, Glorfindel rushed ahead, catching up to Haldir in a few easy strides.   
  
“A thousand pardons, good Haldir! Your brothers have told me of your adventures abroad, in the world of Men, and of your most recent encounter with Lady Eressëaiel. Would you consider regaling me with any tales?”   
  
Haldir was ripped from his brooding stupor and blinked dumbly at the ellon, taken aback by his forthcoming friendliness and easy conversation.   
  
He hesitated, “Forgive me, my lord, but I’m afraid I’m not acquainted with many Ladies of the court… or, any, really. I do not know of whom you speak.”   
  
“Why, Amroth’s heir, of course.”   
  
Haldir stopped dead, Glorfindel slowed beside him and looked at him curiously. Haldir took a shaky breath as the original question caught up to him.   
  
“Wh- What was the Lady?”   
  
“Eressëaiel. Celeborn’s niece… I was made to understand you were the warden who came upon her.”   
  
Haldir’s heart hammered within him, and he struggled to even his breathing and steady his hands.   
  
“Forgive me, my lord. I was unaware of her title… We-“

_Bonded?_

_Kissed?_

_Poured our hearts to one another?_

“Were not in company very long.”

Haldir stepped back, waving a hand before him as though fending off a gnat. “I must… scout ahead. I do beg your pardon.” His voice was a rush of breath as he all but took off into the trees, leaving Glorfindel frowning in his wake.  
  
_What an unusual ellon._ He thought.   
  
Truly it took a mere mention of her name to reduce a seasoned Warden to a stuttering, flustered mess. He chanced a look back at the remaining brothers, who had slowed the caravan but not stopped. The clear look of distress on the face of Orophin and the sad countenance of the younger Rúmil told Glorfindel all he needed to know.

* * *

 _Two Weeks Earlier_   
  
“Legolas." Thranduil called, holding the message from Lórien in his hands. His son walked in and approached his father, seated at a large desk. The prince bowed respectfully and waited.   
  
Thranduil continued, "Do you recall Amroth? The King of Lórien?"   
  
Legolas blinked at the question, but nodded, "Of course. He perished in Belfalas while searching for the Edhellond."   
  
Thranduil nodded, "Yes, but do you remember him? He was a dear friend of mine, and you did meet him many times."   
  
He understood, then, "Yes, father. I do recall the Lord Amroth and his Lady Nimrodel."   
  
Legolas began to feel uncomfortable, this odd questioning in the dull light of his father's study after a rather urgent missive had just arrived from Lord Celeborn in Lothlórien.   
  
Thranduil finally set the parchment down and sighed, looking up at his only son. "What you may not know, Legolas, is that before she disappeared, Lady Nimrodel was with child. Before he died, Amroth and I had discussed the possibility that, should Nimrodel beget a daughter, that we could unite our kingdoms through our children. It was our great hope to bring you up together so that the two of you might bond."   
  
A chill passed down Legolas's spine and he tried hard to not shudder.   
  
Thranduil fixed a scrutinizing look on his son, before blinking casually and continuing, "I have just received word from Lord Celeborn that, against all odds and by the grace of Valar, the child of Amroth and Nimrodel has been found. The Lady Eressëaiel has been at sea for some hundreds of years, a prisoner of the Corsairs of Umbar. But she is now safe in Lórien with her uncle and aunt."   
  
Legolas was at a loss for words, frozen where he stood, awaiting the final blow from his father's ominous words.   
  
Thranduil seemed disappointed by his son's lack of response, so he straightened and sighed, "You will make for Lórien as soon as possible. You and she will make acquaintance and, I have little doubt, find yourselves agreeable to betrothal."   
  
The King waved dismissively and Legolas broke from his stupor long enough to stagger from the room.   
  
_Betrothal_ ?   
  
His head spun and he braced himself against the wall of the corridor, as his heart sank in his chest. Legolas knew there was no law that he had to marry, and certainly not someone he had no desire to, but he felt the weight of his father's words; the disappointment would be great. He had to, at the very least, meet this elleth and keep her company until it was apparent there was no hope for courtship.   
  
And Legolas held little doubt that this would be the case.   
  
But there would be no avoiding the journey to Lothlórien, Thranduil had all but commanded him. He took a deep breath and headed toward his chambers to prepare for his departure.   
  
Legolas swallowed the lump in his throat as Lothlórien bloomed into view. The moment he stepped out of Mirkwood his feet had dragged. His mind and heart torn asunder by his duty to honor his father and his desire to flee for the hills.   
  
It didn’t have to be a taxing experience, he considered. While he did not know what this Eressëaial’s expectations were upon his arrival, or even if she were aware of it, it was no reason to be consumed with reluctance and worry. Just by being here and meeting this elleth he will have fulfilled all obligations put forth by his father. And he was always eager to meet new people, sheltered as he often had been in his youth. If nothing else, the time away from Thranduil would be liberating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Le hannon - I thank you (formal)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Charter to the Void](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655478) by [Khalid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalid/pseuds/Khalid)




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